


fade into you (strange you never knew)

by sopaloma



Series: bughead through the decades [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 90s AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Romance, partially inspired by cole's photography, photographer!juggie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-21 09:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopaloma/pseuds/sopaloma
Summary: On the night of his first gallery show, Jughead Jones is about to see Betty Cooper for the first time in six years.A 90s AU.





	1. summer

**Author's Note:**

> title from Mazzy Star, "Fade Into You"
> 
> a new fic - so soon! this idea really would not leave me alone. it's been floating around in my head since cole's reddit AMA where he released some of his behind the scenes pics. and then i was struck by the need to write a fic based on the titular song and realized i could move this idea into the 90s. it really ran away with me!
> 
> after cole posted his most recent pic of lili on instagram, i actually started writing this while i was trying to finish my 80s AU. so the photo of lili in the wheat field is another huge source of inspiration here. i would also suggest listening to 'fade into you'. i had it on repeat while i was writing.
> 
> and for reference, this fic will cover summer '96 to spring '97
> 
> sorry for the long, rambling note! enjoy

Jughead surveys the remaining boxes scattered across the floor in his living room. It had been two weeks since he moved in and he was tired of having to weave around his unpacked items every time he walked through his apartment. He had to do something about them.

It was also a good distraction from his growing anxiety over the night ahead of him. He doesn't know why he's so nervous - he's had his work published in magazines, books; many people had seen his photography and knew his name. But he'd never had a gallery showing before and it felt significant.

He's begins to slice through the tape around one of the smaller boxes - full of lenses and some straps for his old camera - when the phone in his kitchen rings. He frowns. The only people who had his new number were Archie and his dad. His dad wasn't scheduled to call him today and he would see Archie later at the show.

"Hello," he says into the receiver as he picks up.

"Hey, Jug," Archie greets him. "How's it going?"

"Not bad. Finally got around to unpacking," he replies, cradling the receiver between his cheek and shoulder as he turns on his coffee machine. "What's up? Did you need something?"

"It's about tonight. Ronnie wants to know if there's a dress code."

Of course she did. She probably had three possible outfits already lined up for each level of formality and needed to know which one to pick.

"It's casual. Jeans are fine, but maybe don't wear sneakers," he responds, thinking about the white Nike's that seemed to be permanently attached to Archie feet.

"No sneakers, got it. Thanks, man. I'll tell her."

"No problem." The machine beeps in front of him and he awkwardly lifts the pot with one hand to pour himself a cup. "Doors open at seven but don't worry if you get there a little later."

"Yeah, about that..." Archie trails off and Jughead can hear the hesitation in his voice. He puts the pot back into the machine, braces himself. "Veronica invited Betty."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Jug?" Archie asks, worried by his silence. "Look, I know I've sprung this on you but I can't _uninvite_ her."

"It's fine," Jughead assures him although he isn't totally sure that it is.

He hadn't seen Betty in six years and this was probably the worst possible night for him to see her again. His anxiety levels were spiking at the thought of it.

"You don't need to be nervous. It'll be okay, man. It's been six years and you're over it, right?"

Jughead's shoulders slump. "Right."

Archie bids him goodbye and as soon as he's hung up, Jughead rests his forehead against the cool wall next to his phone, trying to pull himself together.

A feeling like shame washes over him as he thinks about what Archie had said. Six years was a long time, and definitely long enough to get over your high school crush, yet somehow Jughead had never managed it. He hadn't seen her in all that time and still the memory of Betty Cooper made his stomach do somersaults.

He wonders if it's bad form to skip out on your own gallery show.

 

 

 

There's a bold white sign in the window of the gallery and another hanging above his head, the words, ' _Adolescence_ by J. Jones' printed across them in black lettering.

The gallery is big, the room split into four sections with temporary walls, each section displaying a specific groups of photos. All of the photos are black and white, and they were all taken during his time at Riverdale High.

To say he was surprised when the gallery had contacted him would be an understatement, and they had surprised him further when they took an interest in the older work in his portfolio. His early photographs were still good - his talent was clear, even as a teenager - but they were experimental as he tried to find his style, and lacked the skill he had now.

But here he was, his photographs of his high school peers and friends framed and displayed on the walls of a New York City gallery.

Jughead makes sure to move through the room and chat, like his agent, Diane, had told him to. She was currently across the room, schmoozing potential buyers. He wanted her to remain distracted until he could get a handle on his nerves.

It's a little after seven when Archie arrives, walking up to Jughead and giving him a huge smile as he pulls him into a hug.

"This is awesome, Jug," he exclaims, then turns his attention to the photo in front of them - Archie in his football uniform, face smeared with sweat and dirt after scoring a winning touchdown. "I feel like I'm famous!"

Jughead laughs at his enthusiasm. "I hate to break it you, Arch, but this isn't that big of a deal."

Archie shoots him an incredulous look. "Your photographs are in a real gallery. That's huge."

He knows it is, but it made him feel embarrassed and he was trying to remain modest about the whole thing.

"Well, thanks," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where's Veronica?"

"I'm here," she announces suddenly, pushing past Archie and placing a swift kiss against his cheek. "You look great, Jug. I don't think I've ever seen you in a shirt that isn't plaid before."

"Uh, thanks," he mumbles, tugging self-consciously at his button-up. He'd dressed up a little bit, put on slacks instead of jeans. The dress code may have been casual but he needed to make a good impression.

Veronica had clearly ignored the dress code too - her tight dress and platforms were more suited to cocktails in an upscale bar.

"Where's Betty?" Archie asks, looking behind Veronica in search of her, and Jughead's stomach clenches.

"She went to the bathroom, she'll be here in a sec."

That appeases him slightly - he has some time to compose himself before she arrives.

"Hey, Ron, look at this," Archie says excitedly, wrapping his arm around Veronica's waist and gesturing to the picture of himself.

Veronica gasps. "Oh my god. Babe, you look so hot." She grins at Jughead. "Are there any of me in here?"

"A few," he answers. There's a lot actually, but he doesn't want to stroke her ego.

She clutches Archie's arm, excited. "Lets go look around."

"Shouldn't we wait for Betty?"

Veronica waves her hand dismissively. "She'll find us," she insists and pulls him away before he can protest.

Jughead takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and leans back against the wall, watching the room. He's always been something of a loner but he thinks there's something inherently sad about his inability to join in, even during a night held in his honor.

He takes a long sip and sweeps his gaze across the clusters of people, pausing when he spots the blonde woman standing alone. She looks relaxed in a knee-length floral dress, hair loose and wavy, and shielding her face from his view as she studies the photograph in front of her.

He knows, even without seeing her face, that it's Betty.

She turns then, her eyes immediately finding his and a soft smile pulling at her lips.

She crosses the distance between them, stopping just inches in front of him.

"Hey, Juggie."

He hasn't heard that nickname in six years.

"Hey, Betts."

She takes a tentative step forward, closing the remaining space and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He immediately wraps his own around her waist, marvelling at the feel of her in his arms after all this time, and fights the urge to bury his face in her hair. She still smells the same.

She pulls back, smile still in place, and asks, "How are you? How are you finding the city?"

"I'm good. Finally settling in. Enjoying the weather," he replies. "Summers weren't this hot in Seattle."

She laughs. "I'll bet. The heat is good but it can be oppressive."

"How are you?"

"I'm great," she smiles. "I actually can't believe I'm here, seeing you. And at your show, no less."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it," he admits, not sure if he's talking about the show or seeing her again. Probably both.

"Well I'm not surprised at all. Your photographs have always been amazing, Jug."

"Thanks," he says quietly, both pleased and embarrassed by her compliment.

"So do I get a tour with the man of the hour?"

"Uh, sure." He tentatively places his hand on the small of her back and steers her towards the first section - 'Jersey'.

 

 

 

The room is filled with landscapes of their hometown and recognisable places within it; Main Street, Sweetwater River, City Hall. She studies each image of places so familiar to her, as if she is seeing them for the first time, Jughead trailing a few steps behind.

Her watches her reactions, although she doesn't give much away. She's mostly silent as they walk through the first section but a smile stretches across her face as they move to the next, 'Spirit'.

"This is mostly pictures from football games," he explains and half-heartedly pumps his fist. "Go, Bulldogs!" he announces without a trace of enthusiasm.

She snorts. "You never were one for sports."

He doesn't disagree with her. Football had never been his thing and he only ever went to games to support Archie.

"I remember that game," she comments as she pauses in front of a portrait of her and her fellow cheerleaders gathered on the edge of the football field. It was raining hard that night, her ponytail limp as her hair became heavy with water. "We were playing Greendale. It rained the whole night." She turns to look at him. "I didn't know you went to that game."

He shrugs. "Sometimes I'd sneak in when no one could see me to take pictures. They turned out more natural that way."

"That's kind of creepy," she teases, and he swallows thickly.

"Yeah," he laughs, the sound weak and nervous. "Kind of."

She moves through the rest of the room, commenting on other games she remembers and how handsome Archie had always looked in his uniform. She even grimaces at one picture of her and Veronica practicing their routines as she recalls the brutal practice Cheryl had put them through that day.

He likes listening to her reminisce about that time, giving him the details behind the photographs. He had often found himself capturing moments he wasn't apart of and it's nice to finally know the story there.

Jughead's palms start to clam up as they move into the third section. They were getting closer to the final part of show.

'Youth' was the gallery owner's favorite. Pictures of his friends and classmates littered the walls - in booths at Pop's, at parties, watching The Pussycats perform, at the bowling alley. Everyone looks so carefree and young, and he wonders how these people have changed in the years that have passed. As far as he knew, none of his other classmates were coming tonight, wouldn't get a chance to relieve their high school years through his work.

"She looks amazing," Betty comments quietly, staring at the close-up of Cheryl Blossom's perfect features.

He agrees. He'd always liked that shot, had been surprised when Cheryl agreed to let him photograph her so easily. He guesses her vanity had no limits; not even the trailer park kid she had never liked.

"This is from Josie's eighteenth birthday," Betty observes, stopping in front of an image of her and Val laughing on Archie's sofa, red solo cups in hand. "God, why didn't any of you tell me how horrible those dungarees were?" she laughs, staring at her outfit in horror.

He grimaces. "The late 80s was a dark time for us all."

"Yeah, like that beanie you always wore," she teases him.

"Hey!" he yells in mock outrage. "The beanie was cool."

"If you say so." She throws a smirk over her shoulder as she moves onto the next picture and his breath catches in his throat.

The next one is another favorite of his - Betty and Veronica dancing together in Archie's living room, graduation caps in hand. He notes the differences between seventeen-year-old Betty and the one in front of him. She's older, obviously, and her hair is longer, but her face is fuller now, her body curvier. He doesn't think it's just age that has changed her, but something much more deliberate.

"That was an interesting night," she murmurs and when her eyes catch his there's something he can't describe in her gaze.

He wonders if she's also thinking about them sitting on Archie's porch swing in the middle of the night, thighs touching as they ignored the party raging on inside, completely focused on each other.

He opens his mouth to speak - what he was going to say, he doesn't know - when his agent calls out to him. He reluctantly breaks their eye contact and turns to Diane.

"J, there's someone I need you to meet," she announces, already tugging on his arm. "She's an editor for Vanity Fair."

He looks back at Betty, eyes full of apologies, and she waves him off. "Go. It's okay."

He follows Diane towards the 'Spirit' section, listens to her list the editor's many accomplishments. Although he feels bad for leaving Betty on her own, he realizes that she was about to enter the fourth and final part of the gallery and he's feels slightly sick at the thought of being there when she sees it. Maybe it was for the best that he wouldn't be around for that.

 

 

 

Diane exchanges contact information with the editor and Jughead gives her his personal email. He doesn't use it very often - the internet was a strange concept to him and he didn't have a modem in his new apartment - but it was more of a gesture. He knows she'll contact Diane if she has any jobs for him.

He leaves to go in search of Archie. He'd been here for over an hour now and would probably be ready to leave soon. Jughead wished he could join him.

His search comes up empty, unable to find him or Veronica in the first three sections, so he moves to the back of the room.

'Muse', the sign on the partition walls reads. Jughead takes a deep breath as he walks inside, praying that Betty had already moved onto another part of the gallery.

No such luck.

She's one of the three people in the area, stood in the center of the room, eyes focused intently on the large print in front of her. He catches the looks the couple beside her are throwing her way.  

He slows his pace as he walks towards her but his boots are still audible against the hardwood and she turns at the sound.

"Juggie," she breathes out as they lock eyes, her own shiny with tears.

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to explain what she's seeing without sounding pathetic. Her reaction scares him, too. She had jokingly called him creepy earlier, but if that was how she viewed him sneaking into football games, he has no idea what she thinks of _this_.

Her eyelashes flutter over watery eyes before swivelling back to the photo - a black and white portrait of a teenaged Betty Cooper.

Just like every other photograph in the room.

The entire space is filled with her. Shots of her practicing her cheers in her uniform, Veronica unfocused in the background; close-ups of her features in profile, chin cradled in her hand; her smiling face bathed in red neon light as she laughs in the Pop's parking lot; perched on the hood of his dad's truck, hands covered in grease and dirt on her cheek.

He looks away from the photographs and back to her, finds her staring at him, expression unreadable.

"When did you-" she begins but she's cut off by Veronica, who gasps loudly as she comes up behind them.

"Oh my god, B." She claps one hand over her mouth. "You look gorgeous!" she says as her eyes flicker from one picture to the next. She nudges Jughead with her elbow. "I'm jealous, Jug. If only you'd had a crush on me, then you could have captured me like this. Not that I don't love the other photographs."

He chances a look at Archie, who's mouth has dropped open in shock, probably re-evaluating the end of their earlier phone call.

"Who knew that the hobby we all teased you about would become an actual career?" Veronica continues, oblivious to the tension in the room. "And that you'd be so good at it. You're incredible, Jug." She links her arm through Betty's. "Don't you agree, B?"

"Yeah," she says quietly as her eyes meet his. "Incredible."

"We should probably get going," Archie declares and Jughead quickly breaks their eyes contact, looking to Archie. "Our reservation is at 8.30."

Jughead's body visibly sags in relief. He's desperate to get out of this situation and he actually has an out.

Veronica seems dismayed and comes over to hug him. "I meant what I said. You're so talented. I have to buy one of these from you."

"You don't need to do that, I can just give you the one you want. Friendship privileges."

She beams. "You're the best, Jug."

They make their way to the entrance and Archie gives him a hug. "Call me tomorrow," he says as he pulls away and Jughead nods. No guesses what he wanted to talk about.

Betty hangs back, waiting for Veronica and Archie to make their goodbyes before she approaches.

"I'm really glad I came tonight," she tells him and his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Really?"

She laughs, eyes dropping to the floor and then back up to him. "Really. We should meet up, go for coffee."

Did this mean she didn't think he was creepy?

"Uh, sure. When are you free?"

"Does tomorrow work for you?"

They make plans to meet at 71st and Columbus, at a coffee shop Betty likes. He writes his number of the back of a business card, just in case, and tells her he'll see her tomorrow.

"See you then," she replies and rises on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek.

He watches her leave and wonders for the second time that day if he can bail on his own show.

 

 

 

After a brief phone call with Archie where he assured him that his teenage infatuation with Betty was well and truly over - definitely a lie, but he didn't want to think about that - he leaves his apartment to catch the subway uptown.

He grabs a bagel and a newspaper on his way to the coffee shop, finishing the bagel in three bites and flicking through the paper until he finds the review of his show last night.

It was positive, thankfully, noting his young age and praising the way he had captured an 'important transitional period in everyone's life' as well as life in small town-America.

Betty is already outside when he arrives, dressed in a red polka-dot shirt that ends an inch above the waist of her jean shorts. Her outfit surprises him. When they were younger, she had always been too self-conscious to wear anything remotely revealing. Her cheerleading uniform had been a particular issue for her, but she had loved the squad too much to ever quit.

Clearly, Betty at twenty-four had more confidence and it made him smile. She had inevitably changed over the course of six years and he hopes all of those changes are for the better.

"Hey," she says brightly when she sees him, passing him a cup of hot coffee. "I got you a black coffee. I know that's how you used to like it, but I got some creamer and sugar in case your tastes have changed."

He didn't know how something as small as her remembering his coffee order made him feel so warm.

"Hasn't changed," he assures her, taking the cup from her hands. "Thanks. What do I owe you?"

She waves him off. "It's my treat."

Relief washes through him as he realizes any of the awkwardness they'd felt last night seemed to have disappeared. Still, he keeps himself on alert - if she brought up the pictures of her, he didn't want to be caught off guard.

They decide to walk through Central Park. It's a hot day - probably too hot to be drinking coffee, although nothing would deter his caffeine addiction - and the park is full of families and dogs, and people looking to soak up the city's heat. Archie had told him that the summers in New York could be brutal but he'd been lucky so far. It was July so of course it was hot, but it wasn't unbearable.

"How did the rest of your night go?"

"It was fine," he replies. "Schmoozing and making contacts isn't really my thing, but I like talking to people about my work. It ended pretty late though."

"It was a great show, Juggie. I know we aren't close anymore but I felt kind of proud," she admits with an embarrassed smile. "I always knew you'd become a famous photographer."

"You did not," he scoffs.

"I did," she argues, laughing at his disbelief. "The pictures you took for the Blue & Gold were always so good."

He can feel his ears turning red, so he changes the subject.

"Happy birthday, by the way. I know it was like three weeks ago, but still..."

She smiles at him. "I can't believe you remembered."

He shrugs. "We were friends for a long time."

"Well, thank you." She catches his hand in hers briefly and gives his fingers a squeeze. The contact thrills him more than it should. "Archie said you just started a new job at Rolling Stone. That's exciting."

"And intimidating. I'm still trying to process it." It was his first real job, outside of freelance, and he knew he was lucky. 

"How did you get into that, the music stuff? Arch showed me some of your pictures in other magazines."

"I caught the North-West grunge wave," he explains as they turn to walk along the pond. "It was a case of being in the right place at the right time, but it was pretty awesome being in Seattle during that time. Everyone quickly realized that we were witnessing a moment, especially after Cobain's death, so I started sending my pictures to music magazines. I guess they caught Rolling Stone's attention."

"That's so cool. If only I'd decided to go to SU instead of NYU. I could have seen that, too." She sounds wistful. Jughead never would have pegged her for a grunge fan; he made a mental note to ask her about music later.

"Loads of cool shit happens in New York, too, Betts," he points out. "What about you? What are you doing?"

"I'm a copy editor for a small publishing company in the Village. It's nice," she says, fondly. "It's close to my apartment and the people I work with are great."

"That's awesome. You're we're so good at that in high school." He thought about all the times he would find her in the Blue & Gold office, red pen in hand as she read through an article, looking for mistakes and corrections.

"Well, it's not as exciting as _Vanity Fair_ ," she says, mocking him, and he rolls his eyes, "but I like it."

"I'm not sure if I'm actually going to work for Vanity Fair. It's not really my thing."

The looks she gives him suggests she thinks he's crazy.

"Are you serious? I know I just made fun of you but that's a huge opportunity."

They stop by a bench at the north of the pond and take a seat. His coffee is mostly empty now, the bitter remnants left at the bottom.

"I'm still not sure. And I have my new job so it's not like I need the work."

She drapes one leg over the other, angling her body towards him. "But won't Vanity Fair lead to other things? You could eventually be working for Vogue."

He wrinkles his nose. "I don't want to work for Vogue."

She laughs, a teasing smile on her face. "Oh, are supermodels not good enough for you? You can only take pictures of small town teenagers and sweaty bass players?"

He narrows his eyes at her, but he's smiling. "No, smartass. I just don't have any interest in taking pictures of those women. The 'heroin chic' thing is not for me."

Her eyebrows knit together and he can see some of her old insecurities creep up to the surface. "But those women are gorgeous."

And they are. He's just not interested in them. Kate Moss may have perfect bone structure, but she had started a movement labelled after one of the most dangerous drugs on the planet. Jughead didn't think that was a positive.

"All women are," he states quietly but confidently. "Especially if you capture them in the right light."

She smiles at that, eyes falling to her lap.

"I suppose you're right," she murmurs and turns to stare out across the pond, the bright afternoon sunlight reflecting on the water.

Some of the beams fall across the bench, highlighting her profile, as if to prove his point.

 

 

 

After their afternoon in the park, he sees Betty a handful of times, usually crossing paths with her when he goes to Veronica and Archie's place. They never get a chance to talk like they had that day, but there's a new kind of familiarity between them now. They're different people than they were in high school, but they're becoming comfortable with each other. He might even consider them friends again.

She hasn't brought up his show again and he's grateful. He still wasn't sure what to tell her. It was obvious that he'd had a crush on her during their school years but that didn't mean anything now. They had both moved on - or at least, she had. There was no point in dragging up the past. 

In the middle of August, Veronica and Archie throw an engagement party at their Upper West Side apartment. He doesn't even need to ask about the dress code - he knows it's fancy.

When he arrives in a button-up he bought just for the occasion, he finds the party is already in full swing; people milling around, sipping on champagne, eating tiny portions of over-priced food.

He swipez three slices of bruschetta from a waiter and munches on them as he walks around the apartment, looking for Archie and Veronica.

He finds the happy couple by the wet bar, talking to a slim, older woman that he thinks is Veronica's mother. They're the picture of New York society - Archie in an obviously expensive suit and Veronica in a slinky purple dress - and Jughead is surprised as just how well his goofy, lovable friend fits in amongst these people.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says as he approaches them and Veronica turns to him with a warm smile.

"Hey, Jug. Thanks for coming." She gives him an air kiss, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. "Mom, you remember Jughead Jones."

Mrs Lodge looks at him blankly. "Of course," she lies. "Nice to see you again."

"You, too."

"Jughead is a photographer," Archie adds and Jughead thinks he's trying to impress his future mother-in-law. "He took the picture hanging in our living room."

Jughead had gifted them with a large print of one of his photographs a week earlier - a romantic shot of Archie dipping Veronica in a kiss after a football game - as an engagement present.

Mrs Lodge's eyes light up. "Oh! So you're J. Jones. I love that picture - it's a beautiful shot."

He nods, "Thank you."

Betty arrives then, prompting Veronica's mother to leave the group to themselves, and gives Jughead a quick hug as she greets him.

"V, your dad told me he wants to make a speech but he wants you up there with him," she informs Veronica, who huffs.

"I told him he wasn't allowed to make a speech unless he ran it by me first." She weaves her fingers through Archie's. "We need to talk to him before he embarrasses us."

He watches them leave, slightly confused. He'd never met Veronica's father but from what he had heard, he was a successful businessman, all charm and dark good looks. He couldn't associate that image with a stereotypically embarrassing dad.

"Is Veronica's dad really like that?"

Betty sighs. "She wouldn't say it in front of him, but she's more worried over what he'll say about Archie. Hiram is not his biggest fan."

"Right." Jughead nods. He can't imagine Archie took that very well - he always wanted to be liked. He thinks of the way he blended here. Maybe Archie had felt like he needed to learn to fit into this world, in order to impress Mr Lodge.

Jughead turns to her then, eyes sweeping the length of her in a way he hopes is subtle. She's wearing a short, dark pink dress, the straps thin and dainty across her shoulders, the fabric fitted at the curve of her waist.

"You look nice," is what he tells her, but it feels so inadequate. She's the prettiest girl in the room - always was, in his opinion - but he wasn't the kind of guy who could drop lines like that without sounding like a tool.

"Thanks," she smiles, smoothing her hands across the floaty skirt. "You look good, too. I've always liked you in blue."

He doesn't know how to respond. He wants to ask what she means by 'always' but he also wasn't the kind of guy who could be direct with the girl he likes.

"So I've been thinking." She gives him a nervous smile as he turns his attention to her and he wonders what she could possibly have to be nervous about. "I think you're amazing at what you do, Jug, and I'd really like it if you'd take some pictures of me."

His eyebrows shoot up. He had not been expecting that.

"You would?"

"Don't ask me why," she says. "But I'd really appreciate it if you would. I can even pay you for your time."

"You don't have to pay me, Betty. If you hadn't noticed, I kind of like taking pictures of you." The joke leaves his mouth before he can take it back and they both flush in embarrassment.

She looks away briefly but meets his eye again, the corners of her lips turned up. "Is that a yes?"

He'd be an idiot to turn down the opportunity.

"Yes."

"Great." She smiles full and bright then. "Just let me know when you're free."

 


	2. autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the response last chapter! i'm really enjoying this one. 
> 
> recommended listening: here comes your man - pixies. the album playing in jug's truck is 'doolittle'.
> 
> also, a little warning - there are vague mentions of eating disorders in this chapter.

  
Betty sits on the steps leading up to her building, watching the end of her street. It's a beautiful day, the summer's warmth lingering even as the leaves start to turn, and she thinks they couldn't have picked a better weekend to do this.

She adjusts her dress for the third time, smooths her hair with her hands. When she had called Jughead the night before he had told her to wear whatever she wanted but to wear good shoes. She had slipped into her Converse before she left her apartment.

Her dress was simple, a dark red button-up that fell to her knees, but she still wasn't sure about her choice. The last time she had worn it she was going on a date with an old friend from college. And what they were doing today was definitely not a date.

She rises to her feet when Jughead arrives in a familiar truck, windows rolled down and music filtering out. He leans across to open the door for her, a small smile on his lips.

"Hey," she says as she climbs in. "Is this your dad's old truck?" she asks, running her hand along the dashboard.

"Yep. I think she's only got another year or so left, but she's still running." His eyes trail over her, taking her in, making her feel warm. "You look pretty."

"Thanks." She busies herself with putting on her seatbelt, looking away so that he can't see her pleased smile. The dress had been a good choice.

He looks good too although his outfit isn't entirely appropriate for the weather. He's wearing heavy jeans and there's a plaid shirt tied around his waist. That being said, he was the same man who as a teenager had worn a knitted beanie in the middle of summer. She's sure he'll be fine.

He pulls out of her street and heads towards the Hudson River, a breeze now blowing through the windows.

"So where are we going?" she asks, pulling at the hem of her dress where it has ridden up her thighs.

His eyes flicker over to her, watching the movement, but he quickly looks away.

"Bear Mountain State Park. It should be really pretty this time of year."

She'd never been to Bear Mountain. In fact, she hadn't seen much of New York outside of the five boroughs. It would be fun to see a new part of the state.

"I like this song," she comments. She's never heard it before but it reminds her of an angsty Beatles, the tune catchy but the singer's voice scratchy and low. "Who is it?"

"Pixies," he replies, turning the volume up slightly. "Most of their songs don't sound like this, but they're really good. I actually took pictures of them in '92 at one of their shows."

"That's so cool." He had lived such an exciting life in Seattle and she hadn't had many chances to ask him about it. She angles her body towards him. "Who's your favorite band you've ever photographed?"

"Alice In Chains was awesome," he answers, smiling at the memory. "And I saw The Smashing Pumpkins once. I'm not a huge fan of their music but the show was good."

"I'm so jealous. The only show I've ever been to is New Kids On The Block and I don't even like them."

He smirks. "So why did you go?"

"Veronica begged me and she's really hard to say 'no' to."

He laughs and she watches how the muscles in his face move. He doesn't laugh very often but she loves it when he does.

"I could take you to a show sometime," he offers and her stomach flutters at the idea of them making future plans.

"I'd like that."

 

 

 

It takes a little over an hour to get to the park. They don't say much during the drive, the music mostly filling the space. He was right, the other Pixies songs sounded very different, but she still liked them. She'd have to ask him what the album was called.

She begins to feel nervous when they pull into the parking lot. It had been her idea, she'd asked him to take pictures of her, but she's never done anything like this before. The photographs of her in the gallery were unstaged, moments caught as they were happening, her usually unaware of his camera. This was very different.

Jughead grabs his camera from the backseat, slipping the strap over his head before he climbs out. She meets him at the front of his truck, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes, hoping that they will shield some of her nervousness.

"I think we should head up this trail." He gestures to a path between some trees. "The colors of the leaves are amazing. They'll look great with your dress."

She's fascinated by his ability to spot something like that so quickly. He's clearly imagining the scene in his head already, has an idea of how he wants to frame his shot. Relief washes through her as she realizes he's taking the lead.

The trail is short and ends at an open clearing, a view of the lake on one side and a forest on the other. He had been right; the park was beautiful at this time, the leaves turned to many hues - red, green, orange.

"You ready?" he asks behind her, and tears her eyes away from the view to look at him.

"I don't really know what to do," she admits, removing her sunglasses and slipping them onto the front of her dress.

"That's okay," he assures her. "I'll tell you wear to stand. You just need to relax, act natural."

She nods. "Okay." She thinks she can do that.

He instructs her to stand amongst the trees, to lean up against the thick trunk of one. She tries to act naturally, like he told her. It's not like she could pose for him anyway; she wouldn't even know where to start.

The camera clicks as he takes a shot, and he then crouches down onto one knee, taking one from a different angle.

"You're doing really good," he smiles. "Lets head into the woods."

The click of his camera surprises her this time. She's turned away, her back to him as she walks through the trees, but he's still shooting. She briefly looks over her shoulder and he grins, taking a few shots in quick succession.

"That's gonna look great."

They spend hours at the park, exploring the area and taking pictures as they go. He doesn't say much, his expression serious as he works. She had found the attention unsettling to begin with, but the more time that passed, the easier it was to relax.

The sun is low in the sky as they get back onto the highway, light hitting the interior of the truck and making the blue of his irises look clear.

"That was fun. I'd never been outside of the city until today."

"Really? But you've lived here for six years."

She shrugs. "I'm not exactly the outdoorsy type and the city has everything I need. I guess I never saw a reason to leave."

"Makes sense." He seems thoughtful, fingers drumming against the wheel. "I should try shooting in the city. I usually take pictures in nature or dark interiors. The city could be a new challenge."

"I'm sure you'll capture it perfectly."

He takes his eyes off the road to smile at her, but he looks almost embarrassed at her compliment. It's endearing. He's been doing this for a while now and she can't be the first to tell him he's good at it, but he still reacts like it's the first bit of praise he's ever received.

"Do you wanna get dinner?" he asks, eyeing a diner ahead of them.

"Sure."

He pulls into the parking lot and slips his camera strap over his head again, taking a few shots of the place. It's an old-school diner, like the one back in Riverdale, but the owners clearly hadn't put in as much care over the years as Pop had. The metal was rusting and the paintwork was chipping.

Betty wouldn't have given it a second glance on any other day - there were diners everywhere - and it's then that she realizes Jughead is always looking for beauty, everywhere he goes. Even a rundown diner on the side of the highway could be photograph-worthy if you paid attention, and Betty found herself admiring the signs from a bygone era and the curved edges of the exterior.

They choose a booth next to a window and she peruses the menu as Jughead takes some pictures of the interior.

There are no salads on the menu, so that's not an option, and she finds herself looking at the sandwiches again and again. A grilled cheese sounds so good right now, but she really shouldn't. It meant she would have to push herself twice as hard during her next workout.

She's trying to estimate how calories the grilled cheese would contain when Jughead slides into the seat in front of her.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly.

She smiles. "It's okay. You don't need to apologize."

He takes a few minutes to look over the menu and Betty rests her chin in her hand, watching him while he's distracted.

She had always thought he was cute - pretty, even, with his delicate bone structure and bowed lips - but now he was _handsome_.

He definitely looks older - there are faint lines around his mouth and the shadows beneath his eyes are somehow even darker. But the boyish fat was gone from his cheeks and he had a confidence about him that he never had as a teenager. She thinks that may come from his work, from being able to explore his passion. The thought makes her happy.

Jughead orders a burger and a strawberry shake with onion rings on the side. Betty bites her lip as he reels off his order - she'd forgotten about his ridiculous appetite - and wonders if she could get away with only ordering a milkshake, but she knows Jughead would definitely have questions.

She relents and orders the grilled cheese and a Coke, but tells the waitress she doesn't wasn't any fries. Jughead raises his eyebrows at that and comments, "I don't think the words 'hold the fries' have ever left my mouth."

"Well not everyone eats the way you do, Jug." It's meant to be a joke but there's an edge to her voice. Jughead must pick up on it, his eyes dropping to the table as his lips purse.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asks, retrieving a pack of Marlboroughs from his pocket.

"No, go ahead." She slides the ashtray on the table closer to him. "I didn't know you smoked."

He lights the end and takes a long drag. "Bad habit I picked up in college."

She watches his lips wrap around the filter, admiring the shape of them. His features really were pretty.

She had never found smoking sexy like other people she knew - had only ever tried it once herself at a college party - but she had to admit there was something strangely captivating about watching the smoke escape his mouth in soft, white wisps.

She decides to get the conversation going again, not wanting to carry on that train of thought.

"Lets say, theoretically, that someone wanted to get into photography. How would you suggest they went about it?"

One corner of his mouth twitches up as he taps his cigarette against the ashtray. "You looking to steal my job from me, Cooper?"

"No," she laughs. "But I like looking at your pictures and photography has obviously changed the way you look at the world. You don't view things the same way as the average person. I'd like to know what that's like."

He seems surprised by her answer. "I guess you're right. Well... you could start with a disposable. I still use them sometimes."

"Really? Okay. I think I can handle that."

"For sure. Disposables are easy. I think I might have a spare one in my truck, actually. I'll find it later."

"Cool. Thanks."

The waitress arrives with their drinks then. Betty knows she's staring longingly at his milkshake because he starts laughing.

"Want a sip?"

She shakes her head. "I'm good."

"Hey, how's Polly doing?" he asks, plucking the cherry from his shake and putting it between his teeth.

"Polly's good. She and Jason moved to Connecticut last year. The kids love it there." She smiles as she thinks of her niece and nephew.

"And your folks?" he adds and she feels her smile falter.

"They're fine," she says quietly. "Me and my mom aren't on the best terms but I still go back to Riverdale during the holidays."

He frowns. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," she assures him, even though it isn't really. "We still talk to each other but she doesn't approve of my going to therapy. She thinks my therapist tries to blame her for my problems." She rolls her eyes to pass it off as typical Alice Cooper paranoia, but there's at least a  modicum of truth there that she doesn't want to discuss.

He winces. "That sucks. She should be proud of you. Therapy's a big deal."

Her cheeks heat up at this comment but she tries to take it in stride. "Well I'm glad I'm going, with or without her approval."

He nods and that serious expression he wears behind the camera appears on his face again.

"How's your dad?"

He stubs out his cigarette, watching his actions instead of meeting her eye.

"He's good. I haven't seen him in a while but we talk on the phone every other week."

He leans forward to a sip of his milkshake, still avoiding eye contact.

"Well tell him I said hi. I haven't seen him in so long. He doesn't live in Riverdale anymore?"

The straw falls from his mouth. "Uh, no."

There's something guarded about his expression and his body language that makes her curious, but she doesn't push for more.

Their food arrives and Betty moans in satisfaction when she takes the first bite. She can't remember the last time she had something so greasy, so unhealthy, so fucking _good_.

"Good?" Jughead asks, smiling in amusement.

She wipes her mouth a napkin, feeling embarrassed. "Really good."

She practically inhales her sandwich and even he looks impressed when he sees her empty plate.

"Do you want an onion ring?" he asks, sliding the smaller plate towards her.

She knows she shouldn't but she finds herself reaching for one, anyway. He catches her eye across the table and gives her a smile that she can't help but return.

 

 

 

The rest of September passes quickly. When she isn't working, she's fulfilling her maid of honor duties and helping Veronica to plan, and when she isn't planning, she's going on trips with Jughead.

Every weekend, he picks her up in his truck and they drive out into unfamiliar territory in New York State, Elliot Smith or R.E.M. playing on the stereo.

At first she had wanted to try out the disposable he had gifted to her, but a desire to take pictures soon became a desire to explore with him, to spend time with him. She liked being around Jughead, she always had, and she had missed her friend.

Of course it was different now. After his show - after she saw herself in a way she never had before, through his gaze - there was an undercurrent that she couldn't ignore.

When they were teenagers she had considered him one of her closest friends but had always assumed that's all it was - until the night of Archie's graduation party.

The moment they had shared on Archie's porch had made he re-evaluate their friendship and her own feelings towards Jughead. She'd never been able to explore those feelings further - he had moved to the other side of the country a few days later and she wouldn't see him again for another six years - but she hadn't forgotten that moment.

For a time she'd been able to convince herself that she had made it all up. Told herself that Jughead hadn't looked at her like she was the most precious thing in his world, as they sat in front of the Andrews home, on a warm night in August.

Now she had seen the photographic evidence that he had wanted more from her, and she found herself looking for any signs that those feelings still existed in this older, more mature version of Jughead.

 

 

 

In early October, Veronica summons them both to her and Archie's apartment. She assumes she wants to talk about the wedding - Jughead was Archie's best man - so she's not exactly excited as she rides the subway to the Upper West Side. The wedding planning had already become tedious, Veronica's pickiness grating on her nerves in a way it never had before.

Jughead is already there when she arrives, Veronica and Archie's new puppy in his arms. Coco was an excitable chihuahua, and so tiny her entire body fit into the palm of Jughead's hand.

She takes a seat next to him, leaning over to scratch Coco behind the ears.

"What's up, V?" Betty asks, as the dog climbs from Jughead's lap to hers.

"We have important business to discuss," Veronica announces.

"We do?" Jughead asks, then groans. "Please tell me this isn't another conversation about color schemes."

"No," she tells him with a glare. "It's about Cheryl's Halloween party in a few weeks."

"Cheryl's back in town?" She hadn't mentioned it to Betty when she called two weeks ago.

"She's moving into her new place next week and she's throwing a Halloween-slash-housewarming party to celebrate," Veronica explains.

"What does that have to do with me?" Jughead asks. "I'm not friends with Cheryl."

"We've all been invited," Veronica replies. "Even you Jug. And there's a contest for best costume, so we need to discuss group costumes."

Jughead groans as he throws his head back against the sofa in exasperation. Betty would laugh but she's too busy wrinkling her nose at Veronica's suggestion.

"Really, V?"

"We have more chance of winning if we do a group costume," Veronica insists. "And it'll be fun!"

"Well what do we win?" Jughead asks. "If I'm going to purposefully make myself look like an idiot, I need to know why I'm doing it."

"There's a cash prize. Two-thousand bucks for the winners, so five-hundred each."

Archie lets out a low whistle as Jughead nods.

"That's an incentive I can get behind. God bless the Blossoms for being frivolous with their money."

"While I agree that the prize is appealing, what would we even go as?" Betty asks.

"The Power Rangers," Archie suggests. "I call Green Ranger," he adds quickly, as if someone was about to fight him on it.

Jughead's lip curls. "I'm not going as a Power Ranger."

"What about the Spice Girls?" Betty suggests, giggling. "I think you'd make a great Ginger, Arch. Although I don't think they have a Gloomy Spice. Sorry, Jug."

He smiles sardonically. "Very funny, Betts."

They fall silent as they try to come up with ideas. Betty's brain seems to have shut down, unable to recall any groups of characters that would be suitable. She shifts her gaze to Archie, who's staring intently at Coco as she sleeps in Betty's lap.

"I've got it!" he suddenly exclaims. "We should go as the Scooby Gang."

"That could work," she agrees. "But Coco is more Scrappy than Scooby."

"It doesn't matter. She's our adorable selling point," Veronica says, smiling fondly at her dog. "That was such a good idea, babe!"

Archie's chest puffs out with pride.

"I'm down," Jughead says. "But someone needs to stay sober to watch the dog and it isn't going to be me."

"I'll do it," Archie volunteers easily. "It was my idea."

"Well that settles it." Veronica grins at them and claps her hands in excitement. "I can't wait to start shopping!"

She and Jughead leave together and walk to the subway station. He lived in the neighborhood next to hers, her journey only slightly longer than his.

"Shaggy's such an easy costume. You really lucked out there."

"Yeah, I guess." He pulls his collar up around his ears, stuffs his hand into his pockets. The weather was getting cooler now, especially when the sun went down, and Jughead's ever-present plaid shirts could no longer be his only defence against the cold. "I didn't know you and Cheryl were friends."

She shrugs. "We're basically family now. We're not super close or anything, but we definitely get on better than we did in high school. She's mellowed over the years."

"That's good to hear. I was worried about spending an entire night with her."

Betty laughs. "Don't worry. If she tries anything, I'll protect you."

He rolls his eyes but he's laughing too.

The train is already there when they reach the platform. They find any empty spot next to an elderly lady and take a seat.

"Isn't it your birthday next week?"

"Uh, yeah," he responds and his body language suggests that adult Jughead hates his birthday as much as teenage Jughead had.

"Did you go to double features when you were in Seattle?"

"Every year, but I've tried looking for a double feature here and found nothing. Do you know anywhere?"

She shakes her head. "I don't go to the movies much. But I have a pretty extensive collection if you wanted to come to my place."

She studies his face, waiting for his reaction. It was a risky suggestion on her part. Watching movies in her apartment, just the two of them, was a pretty cosy situation but lately she had found that their weekend trips together weren't enough. She wanted to spend more time with him and she was taking her chance.

He can't hide the surprise on his face but he recovers quickly. "That could be fun."

"Awesome. Any preferences?"

He takes a moment to think about it. "No rom-coms. And no Mark Wahlberg."

She nods firmly. "No romance, no Wahlberg. Got it."

He leans back into his seat, hands still tucked into his pockets and a small smile on his lips. Betty's stomach flutters with excitement.

 

 

 

 _It's just Jughead_ , Betty reminds herself again as she fluffs up a throw pillow. _He's not going to care what your apartment looks like_. That still hadn't stopped her from wasting her day cleaning her entire apartment.

She's checking the clock in her kitchen, noting that it was almost seven, when her intercom buzzes. She rushes over to press the button to let him up, and gives herself a quick once-over in the hallway mirror as she waits for him to knock.

She tells herself that she chose her outfit - a cropped button-up sweater and jeans; Veronica would call it 'cute but sexy' - because she looks nice in it, and not because she thinks Jughead will like it.

She opens the door with a smile. "Hey. Come on in."

"I brought wine," he says, lifting the bottle in his hands. "Do you like white?"

She takes the bottle from his hands and smiles. "White is my favorite."

She grabs two glasses from the kitchen and a takeout menu, passing it to him as she takes a seat on the couch. He rattles off his order - easily enough for two people - as she pours them each a glass.

"The food should be here in thirty," she informs him as she hangs up her phone, before picking up the VHS's on the coffee table. "Now I know you said no rom-com's, but I've been told this isn't your average romance."

Jughead takes the tape from her. "True Romance," he reads aloud. "Well I like Christian Slater so I'm down."

"I'm glad you said that because-" She lifts up the second tape, "we're having a Slater-fest tonight."

"Heathers?" He chuckles. "Man, you and Veronica were obsessed with this movie in senior year. Didn't you see it, like, four times?"

"Five," she corrects without a hint of shame. He barks out a laugh and she pokes him in the shoulder. "Like you can talk. You and Archie saw The Last Crusade three times in the same week."

"Fair point," he concedes, but he's still laughing.

"Which one first?" She holds the tapes out in front of her and he points to Heathers. "Sweet!"

Betty had made sure to rewind the tape before he came over, so the movie starts up right away. She curls up on one end of the couch, Jughead settled in at the other, a whole couch cushion of space between them. She takes a large sip of her wine.

 

 

 

The movie is as good as it had been when she was eighteen and she makes a mental note to arrange a movie night with Veronica soon. Jughead seems to be enjoying it, too, laughing at her favorite parts, the dark humor definitely appealing to him.

As J.D. declares his and Veronica's _love is God_ , her buzzer rings, signalling the arrival of their food. They eat straight from the cartons, Jughead giving up on his chopsticks early on and opting for a fork, while Betty perseveres. They eat happily as the movie plays on.

"That was so good," he declares as the credits roll. "Why didn't you and Ronnie ever drag me to the theater with you?"

"We tried! You kept telling us it was a 'chick movie'."

"Well I was an idiot." He smiles and sinks down further into the couch. "Onto the next one?"

"Yep," she says, crouching in front of her TV to change the tape. "Could you pour me another glass?"

"No problem," he says and she hears the slosh of the wine filling her glass as he tops it up.

She moves back into her spot on the couch, fingers wrapped around the stem of her wine glass. Her looks over at her, a wide smile on his face that she hasn't seen many times before.

"I'm really glad we're doing this, Betty."

She smiles back. "Me too, Jug."

The movie begins, blue title cards over a black background, bathing the room in low light. She takes a sip from her glass and glances over at him.

His profile is lit by the glow from the screen, the curve of his nose and lips highlighted in blue. He looks relaxed, by both the evening and the alcohol, and she suddenly hates all of the distance between them.

She wants him closer, she realizes, wants him beside her. What they were doing tonight wasn't a date but a part of her wishes it was. And she thinks that a part of him wishes that, too.

Betty wasn't the type to typically make a move on a guy, to initiate anything, but she knows Jughead. If she waited for him to do something, she could be waiting a long time - the photographs at his show had been proof of that.

She gathers her courage, places her glass on the coffee table, and slides across the sofa, closing the space between them.

"Hi," she murmurs, eyes meeting his.

He blinks at her proximity, eyebrows knitting together slightly, and whispers back, "Hi."

She takes his hand then - the one resting on his thigh beside her - and pulls his arm behind her. Initially, his arm is limp and he still looks confused, but when she presses herself against his side, snuggling against him, she feels it settle around her waist.

She rests her head on his shoulder, eyes trained on the movie, and whispers, "Happy birthday, Juggie."

His arm tightens in response, pulling her closer, as his fingers come to rest on the strip of skin between her sweater and her jeans.

Onscreen, Clarence and Alabama fall in love in a dark Detroit movie theater.

 

 

 

The street is empty, devoid of any activity. Betty looks at the note again, checks the address she had written down. She is definitely in the right place.

"Betty!" She spins at the sound of her name and finds Jughead behind her, stood in the open doorway of a red-brick building. He waves her over. "Come on. The studio's upstairs."

She steps inside, shutting the door behind her and follows him up the concrete staircase to the second floor. He had called her that morning and given her the address of his co-worker's studio, told her to meet him there at noon.

The studio is spacious, with huge windows and white walls. There's a small room at the back and the main space is filled with art - paintings and photographs littering the walls, a large easel in one corner, shelves filled with tubes of paint.

"Isn't it great?" She can hear the excitement in his voice. "Josh's wife is an artist so she comes here to paint and Josh uses the darkroom in the back to develop his work."

"Wow. So you can just use this place whenever you want?"

He shrugs. "That's what he said." He takes her hand. "I've gotta show you some of Annie's paintings. She's amazing."

He leads her around the room, his grip loose but the contact still enough to make butterflies erupt in her stomach. She studies canvases on the walls, listens to Jughead explain Annie's influences and the mediums she uses.

She had assumed that photography was his passion - he had loved it for years now, had forged a career for himself - but she can see that Jughead just loves _art_ , in all it's forms. And she loves to hear him talk about it.

"It's so detailed." Betty's eyes trail across the canvas in front of her - a portrait of an old woman, sat stoically in an armchair. Her eyes trace the shadows on the model's hands, the acrylic paint rising in certain areas, creating an uneven surface. It's gives the painting dimension. "I wish I had this kind of talent."

"You have a talent for words, Betts. Some people can't even string a sentence together and you make sure they sound beautiful and most importantly, grammatically correct."

He's smirking at her. She laughs.

"I guess you're right."

"Do you wanna see the pictures?" he asks, nodding to the back of the room. "I had the stuff on my digital camera printed but I still need to develop the images I took on film two weeks ago."

She hadn't really understood the differences between film and digital when Jughead explained it to her. She knew the digital pictures would be in color, but he had insisted in taking pictures on film during their last trip upstate. He said he liked the result better, the weight of the paper and watching the black and white image develop before his eyes.

"Sure! I'm excited."

She is really excited, actually. She has no doubt that they'll be great - Jughead had taken them, after all - but she had personal investment in these photographs, even moreso than the images of her youth that he had displayed in the gallery.

He pulls her over to a little desk, two envelopes stacked on top. It's a lot of photographs but they've also spent a lot of time together, and Jughead's camera was present through all of it.

She opens the first envelope and carefully removes the photographs. The first few are landscapes of Bear Mountain - the autumnal colors that covered the forest and the water surrounding it - looking as gorgeous in the still shots as it had when they were there.

The fourth picture surprises her - a portrait of the busy, orange-red forest, a long path in the center of the shot and a smiling blonde woman looking over her shoulder at the camera. The blonde is her of course, and Betty has never seen herself look so carefree before.

She flicks through the photos, finding shot after shot of her, interspersed with images of incredible scenery. In some she is looking away, seemingly unaware of the camera and in others she is carefully positioned, following Jughead's direction.

The second envelope is more of the same, more evidence of Jughead's aptitude. She looks at all of them, shuffling through the stack, but pauses on one in particular.

It's a landscape, Betty in the centre of the shot, surrounded by long stems of wheat grass in a field upstate, the setting sun highlighting her face in yellow light, a single stem held between her fingers.

Her breath catches. Jughead could make anything, anyplace, any _one_ look lovely.

"The way you capture me - you make me look beautiful," she says quietly.

She can't think of another time she has ever used that word to describe herself. Maybe never.

His hand settles low on her back, a soft pressure, as he moves closer.

"Well, you _are_ beautiful, Betty."

Her gazes moves from the picture to his face, studying him, looking for any trace of teasing. She finds none.

They stare at one another for a long moment before he blinks, breaking the contact.

"Do you want to see how we print a photograph from film?" he asks, a slight tremble in his tone. He nods in the direction of the small room.

"Sure." Her voice is still quiet, the emotion of their moment still hanging over her, settling in her throat.

The light in the darkroom is strange, a red glow filling the space. There are photographs clipped to lines of wire above them and trays of liquid on the bench in front, other tools and equipment Betty doesn't recognize on the bench behind.

She had only been in one other darkroom - at school, with Jughead, as he showed her his pictures of the Homecoming game for the next issue of the Blue & Gold. This was a similar set-up but the room was smaller. Jughead's arm brushes against hers every time he moves in the confined space.

"I enlarged some negatives yesterday and I exposed them before you got here." She doesn't know what that means, just watches as he lifts up a blank sheet of paper with tongs. "So you get to skip right to the good part."

He moves to the first tray of liquid, says, "Come closer," as he submerges the paper.

She watches in fascination as the image develops, filling the previously blank paper with black, the picture forming before her eyes.

"Oh my god," she breathes out as the shapes get darker, become recognizable.

It's her profile in close-up, light hitting the edges of her features, the rest of her face in shadow.

Jughead smiles. "Cool, right?"

"So cool."

He lifts the image then, soaks it in the next tray, and then the third, before dipping it into a bucket of water.

"And that's all it takes," he says, clipping the new photograph up on the line.

She stares at the picture. Even in the red light, she thinks it's amazing. All of the imperfections she can usually find on her face seem to disappear under Jughead's gaze.

"Juggie," she murmurs.

He turns to her, eyebrows raised as he waits for her to continue, but she has nothing more to say.

She reaches up on her toes, cups his face between her palms and kisses him, soft but firm.

It's a kiss that should have happened years ago, when they were just kids and too scared to admit what they felt. She wonders if the Jughead from that time would have gasped against her mouth in surprise, if she had kissed him on Archie's porch swing.

His surprise only lasts a second, before his lips press back against hers, his hands coming up to settle on the small of her back.

She parts her lips, takes his top one between both of her, runs her tongue across it. He pulls her closer in response, his hands pressing her against his body as his mouth moves against hers, slow and sure.

She pulls away and feels a smile tug at the edges of her mouth as his lips chase after hers. Her thumbs stroke across his cheekbones as his eyes open slowly. He looks sleepy, drunk, and she wonders if it's the strange lighting or her kiss that has put that expression on his face.

"Thank you for showing me all of this, Juggie." It's almost a whisper, anything louder feeling inappropriate in the small space. "You have no idea what these photographs mean to me."

He leans forward to kiss her again, soft and brief.

"Thank you for letting me take them."

 

 

 

A few days later, she is stood outside of Cheryl's expensive building, shivering in the cold, night air. She tugs self-consciously at her short, brown skirt, the skin of her thighs littered with goosebumps. The knee socks did very little against the chill.

"Where the fuck are they?" Jughead grumbles, chin tucked down into his jacket. "I bet they're having a quickie. Don't give a shit about leaving us stranded here in the cold."

She snorts. "Probably." She shuffles closer, loops her arm through Jughead's. Her fingers wrap around his bicep as she tries to absorb some warmth.

Her smiles down at her. "Did I tell you how cute you look with glasses?"

"Shut up," she laughs and lifts her free hand to adjust her wig. It was itchy as hell. She knew it would be coming off as soon as she got a few drinks in her system.

"We're here, sorry!" Veronica announces, running up to them in her pink heels, hand-in-hand with a blond Archie. Coco is tucked under Archie's arm, a knitted jumper on his tiny body and a blue collar around his neck.

Betty doesn't think she's ever seen Veronica wear so much color, as she takes in the short, purple dress and green scarf. The wig looks weird too - Veronica definitely didn't have a future as a redhead.

"Where were you guys? We've been waiting for ages."

"We got side-tracked," Veronica says, glancing over at Archie. He giggles like a teenager.

"I fucking knew it," Jughead mutters beside her.

"Okay, enough standing around!" Veronica yells, ushering them inside. Jughead glares at her back, still pissed that they made them wait.

Cheryl's apartment is huge, easily three times the size of Betty's, with a large balcony attached to the living room.

"Holy shit," Jughead says, taking in the space. There are decorations everywhere, hanging from the ceilings and attached to the walls, and it's still clear that the place is enormous.

"Cheryl!" They all turn at Veronica's shout, watching Jessica Rabbit walk towards them.

"Veronica!" Cheryl pulls her into a loose embrace, drops an air-kiss against her cheek. "I'm so glad you came. You guys look so good."

"It was my idea," Archie declares proudly.

"And who is this adorable guy?" Cheryl leans forward and reaches out to pet Coco, eyes alight. She wasn't always fond of humans, but she definitely had a soft-spot for animals.

"Coco. She's a girl. But she's our Scooby for the night."

"So cute." She straightens up, gestures to her right. "The coat check is over there and the bar is next to the kitchen. The winner of the contest will be announced at 10pm."

Betty slips out of her coat and is about to take Jughead's from him when Cheryl steps closer.

"I heard about your show, Annie Leibovitz. I'm impressed. You turned your weird, little obsession into an actual career."

Jughead's eyebrows knit together. "Uh, thank you?"

"Could I see them sometime? Betty told me there were some photos of me and I'd love to check them out."

"For sure," he nods. "Just let me know when you're free and we'll work something out."

"Great," she grins. Her eyes flicker between them, smile still in place. "I actually think it's kind of cute that you two have found each other after all this time. All that dancing around you did in high school was _so_ boring."

Betty feels her face get hot and she can't look at Jughead.

"Don't you have guests to entertain?"

Cheryl laughs. "Don't get snippy, Cooper. I'm trying to be nice." She winks at them. "Have fun tonight, kids."

"We'll be sure not to go meddling in any mysteries," Jughead says drolly.

Betty giggles and takes his jacket from his arm, gathers it with her own. "I'll take these to the coat check."

"Thanks, Betts."

She's glad to put some distance between them; Cheryl's comment had thrown her off.

Since there kiss in the darkroom, things had been different. There were small displays of affection - her arm tucked into his as they walked along the street, his hand resting on her back as they waited in line, her head on his shoulder as they rode the subway - and soft, secret smiles whenever their eyes met. Those smiles made her stomach clench.

But there were no other kisses and Betty desperately wanted there to be. She knows Jughead liked it as much as she did but she thinks she underestimated just how deep his insecurities run. If there was any chance for the two of them, she has to take the lead.

She finds him at the bar, two beers in hand. She smiles in thanks as she takes one from him, letting her eyes trail over him. Somehow, even in the vaguely-70s, slacker outfit of Shaggy, he manages to look hot.

He smiles at her when he notices her looking at him.

"What?" he asks, self-conscious, cheeks turning slightly red.

"Nothing," she smiles and takes a long sip. She was definitely going to take the lead tonight.

 

 

 

By the time 10pm rolls around, she is feeling sufficiently buzzed. She's at the wonderful in-between point; not quite drunk, but feeling too giddy and floaty to be sober. Jughead is in a similar condition and she discovers he's much more amenable when he's tipsy. He even dances with her, trying to imitate her movements to _The Time Warp_ with little success.

She is propped up against him as Cheryl addresses the room, her arm wrapped his waist and head resting against his shoulder, her wig now lost among the sea of people and decorations. He leans down to whisper jokes in her ear, mocks the costumes of some of those around them, his breath warm on her skin and making her giggle.

When Cheryl announces the winner, she is only half-listening - distracted by their closeness - so it takes her a second to realize that they've won.

"We won?" Veronica asks beside her. She grips Betty's arm. "Oh my god, B. We won!"

She is beyond drunk, racing up to Cheryl on the makeshift stage and throwing her arms around her. They follow her up there, a stone-sober Archie holding Coco in his arms as the rest of the party-goers clap and cheer.

Veronica tries to make a speech, as if she is accepting an Academy Award, but Cheryl quickly cuts her off, thrusting her into Archie's arms. He takes their prize from Cheryl, tucking the envelope of cash into Veronica's bag.

"I should probably get her home," he says, but he doesn't sound annoyed by Veronica's behavior, and instead looks at her fondly. "Gimme a call tomorrow. We can go for breakfast to celebrate. Split the winnings."

They make their goodbyes, leaving Betty and Jughead behind. Neither of them are particularly comfortable at parties and they're even less apparelling when Betty wants nothing more than to get him alone.

"Hey, Jug. I need to show you something," she says, voice low and conspiratorial. The alcohol is making her feel bold.

"Okay," he replies, his confusion stretching the last syllable into a long sound.

She takes him by the hand, leads him to the hallway near the back of the apartment. There is a couple there already, pressed into the corner. Betty is too tipsy to care.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere," she replies, leaning back against the wall and tugging him closer.

He stumbles slightly and she giggles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Jughead buries his face in her neck, mumbles, "Wanted this for so long," as he nuzzles against her.

"Me too, Juggie," she murmurs and slides her fingers into his hair to pull him back.

His eyes flicker between hers, the light blue intense even with the alcohol-induced haze and she just has to kiss him.

It's needier, more desperate than what transpired between them at the studio. His tongue is in her mouth, his hand wrapped around her bare thigh as he presses himself against her. She moans, fingers clutching at his hair, revelling in the still-unfamiliar feeling of his lips on hers.

He pulls away, rests his forehead against hers as he catches his breath.

"Wanna go back to my place?"

She nods, quick and eager, and kisses him one last time before he takes her by the hand.

They collect their coats and step back out into the cold night. Her breath escapes her in white wisps and the harsh chill sobers her up more than she would like. She doesn't want this feeling, this confidence, to end. She can feel it slipping away from her, her chance with Jughead potentially leaving with it.

He comes up behind her, lit cigarette dangling from his lips and wraps his arm around her waist. A small, pleased smile pulls at her lips as she burrows into him.

The walk to his apartment is short, Cheryl's building only a few blocks away from his. They pass people in the street, drunk and dressed-up and stumbling home. She knows that to these people they probably look like a drunken hook-up waiting to happen but it was so much more than that.

She's shivering when they make it inside and Jughead turns the thermostat on, picks up a blanket from the sofa. He slips her coat from her shoulders and hangs it up beside his.

She turns to him, meets his gaze. The worry is clear in his eyes, no doubt waiting for her to declare this as a mistake. She links her fingers behind his neck and kisses him again - three long, soft kisses that she hopes reassure him.

"Can we just... cuddle?" she asks quietly, her sudden sobriety making her re-assess the situation. She wants to be with him so badly but she knows it's too soon. They haven't even talked about what this all means. "And maybe make out a little?"

One side of his mouth ticks up, the worry dissolving into pure happiness.

"Whatever you want."

He gets them a glass of water each and leads her into his bedroom, switching off lights as he goes. She takes a seat at the end of his bed, watches him search through his drawers for something she can wear.

Her eyes move around the room, taking it in. It's relatively empty, the only furniture being his bed, drawers and a bedside table. Some of his photography is hung up on the walls, most of it work she hasn't seen before but there's also some of his high school pictures there. She smiles when she sees the framed shot of her perched on his dad's truck.

"Hopefully these aren't too big." He passes her a small pile of folded clothes - a t-shirt and boxers. "I'll go change in the bathroom."

She changes into his clothes and is settled back against his headboard, legs stretched out in front of her when he knocks.

"You can come in."

His eyes fall on her immediately, a soft smile on his face. He flicks the main switch, the glow of his lamp now the only light in the room. He takes his spot next to her, both smiling shyly as he shuffles closer.

He takes the initiative this time, pulling her closer by her hip and stealing her breath as he kisses her.

She shifts closer, stretching her body out against the length of his. He half-rolls on top of her, his forearms resting against the pillow as his mouth moves against hers languidly.

The same part of her that had wondered about kissing Jughead on Archie's porch swing wants to know if this is what it would have been like. If they had been open with each other, come together as teenagers, would they have spent hours in room, wrapped up in each other just like this?

They kiss for what feels like hours. He settles between her legs eventually, growing bolder as time passes, shifts against her as her hips rise to meet his. She can feel him hard against her but they both know this isn't going any further tonight.

She licks her lips as he pulls back, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at her. She smiles, blinking slowly, the late hour and the headiness of the moment making her sleepy.

"Are you tired?" he asks, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Her eyes flutter at the contact as she nods. "Lets go to sleep."

They slide beneath his comforter, immediately finding each other again. She rests her head against his chest as his arm wraps around her.

"You know, I don't remember Velma ever making out with Shaggy," she whispers into the darkness.

She can feel him smile against her hair. "Maybe they should introduce it into the next cartoon. Could be an interesting development."

She hums and nuzzles against his chest. "Very interesting."

He drops a kiss against the top of her head.

"Night, Betts."

"Goodnight, Juggie."

 

 

 

She's disoriented for a moment when she wakes, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. She snuggles deeper into the pillow and feels the weight around her waist tighten, then a soft pressure against her forehead.

"Morning."

A slow smile spreads across her face as her eyes fully open. He's smiling too, turned to her as he rests against the edge of her pillow.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?" he asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I'm okay. You?"

"Fine. No hangover."

"That's good." She runs fingers up his arm until they settle at the base of his neck, tangling in the hair there. "I had fun last night. Best Halloween in recent memory."

"Yeah?" He sounds both surprised and pleased. "Me, too."

They lie there, content, her fingers playing with his hair as his hand rubs a comforting path from her hip to her waist.

"Juggie?" she asks softly, and his eyes meet hers, his fingers briefly squeezing her hip. "How long have you liked me?"

That serious expression she's come to love settles over his face.

"I can't remember a time when I didn't."

She kisses him then, unable to stand the distance between them when he's saying things like that.

 

 

 

They trade kisses for a while and hold each other close, not wanting to leave the comfort of his bed. Eventually his stomach rumbles and they rise with the promise of breakfast plans with Archie and Veronica.

She curls up on his sofa as he waits for him to make coffee, can hear a low, almost robotic voice filtering in from the kitchen followed by a beep. When Jughead joins her in the living room, he has two cups of steaming coffee in his hands and a deep frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asks as he takes a seat beside her.

He sighs, places his cup on the coffee table. "My boss left a message on my machine. This British band is starting their first US tour in November and he wants me to travel with them to get pictures for a big piece someone's writing on them."

"That's great, Jug! Why aren't you excited?"

"I'll be gone for six weeks."

Betty's heart drops into her stomach. "Oh." She swallows, reaches across to rest her hand on his knee. "It's okay, Juggie. It's your job. You have to go."

He smiles sadly, hand coming to rest over hers. "I know, but I really don't want to."

"It's only six weeks," she reasons. "Not another six _years_."

"You're right," he agrees, that sad smile lingering. "But I just got you, Betts, after all this time. I didn't think I'd have to give you up so soon."

She moves her hand to his cheek, strokes his skin her with thumb.

"I'll still be here, Jug. I'm not going anywhere."

 

 


	3. winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really long and was a bitch to edit, so please ignore any typos! 
> 
> warning for more discussion around eating disorders
> 
> recommended listening for this chapter is nice dream - radiohead and lovefool - the cardigans
> 
> oh, and spoilers for the movie 'scream'. although if you haven't seen it - shame on you! it's amazing and stars riverdale's #1 DILF, skeet ulrich. check it out

Life on the road was unglamorous and tiring.

Staying in nice hotels and visiting a different city every few days sounded exciting in theory, but in reality it left Jughead feeling lonely and irritable. He wanted to be in his own bed, in his own apartment, where could see his friends whenever he wanted and didn't have to live out of a duffel bag.

He's being paid well for his time and getting to hang out with the band is great, but even that was starting to get him down. He loves Radiohead, he really does, but if he has to hear _High and Dry_ one more time he's going to throw himself off the nearest tall building.

Yes, life on the road definitely wasn't as fun as movies made it seem, and after his phone call with his boss today, his bad mood had only gotten worse.

He leans against the side of the phone booth, listens to the dial tone as he waits for Betty to pick up.

"Hello?"

He almost sighs at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, Betts."

"Juggie! Hey." He can hear the smile in her voice. "Where are you right now?"

"Phoenix, Arizona. It's nice here, sunny even in December. I think you'd like it."

"Hmm, that does sound nice. You'll have to take me there sometime." He smiles at that. "What time is it there? Have you had dinner yet?"

They chat for a while - he fills her in on the daily goings-on of tour life and she tells him about work, and their friends, and the most recent wedding-related thing Veronica has forced her into. It's a familiar conversation, one they've been participating in for five weeks now and as much as he loved hearing her voice, it wasn't the same as seeing her beautiful face animated and expressive as she told him stories and asked him about his day.

The tour ended next week. He was supposed to be going home; he was supposed to be seeing her soon.

He tightens his grip on the receiver. "So I have some news."

"That sounds ominous," she laughs. "What's up?"

"The last show is next Friday, in LA, and my boss wants me to stay there for a little while, meet the people at the LA office."

It goes quiet.

"How long is a 'little while'?" she asks quietly.

"Two weeks."

"So you won't be home for Christmas?" He can hear the disappointment in her voice. "Shit, that sucks, Jug."

"I know, babe. I'm so sorry. I'm not exactly thrilled about it either."

She goes quiet again and she sounds happier, lighter when she finally speaks.

"You've never called me that before."

His neck flushes as he realizes what she's talking about and he's so glad she can't see him right now.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "It just slipped out."

"It's okay," she says softly. "I liked it."

He rests his head against the side of the booth as a smile stretches across his face. God, he misses her.

"I really fucking miss you."

"I miss you, too, Juggie. Will you be back for New Years Eve? Cheryl's throwing a big party - we can celebrate your return."

He will be, but it doesn't curb his disappointment. He'd had plans to return to Riverdale this year for the first time since he graduated. He was going to have Fred's amazing Christmas dinner with Archie and Veronica, he was going to finally ask Betty on a real date. And now all his plans were ruined because his boss thought he needed to get to know a group of people he was probably never going to see again.

"Yeah, I get back on the 30th. That sounds fun. I have great memories of the last Cheryl Blossom party I went to."

He can practically hear her blush through the phone. "That was a good night," she agrees.

Betty tells him she has dinner plans with Veronica and bids him goodbye with a promise that she'll speak to him soon.

They're not even technically dating yet but when she hangs up, he misses her like a man misses his wife. He wishes he could get his boss to change his mind. It was like the universe was playing a cruel trick on him - reunite with the girl of his dreams but risk losing his dream job.

He already knows which one he would choose.

 

 

 

A few days later he's in Northern California, walking through the streets of San Francisco. He had a day off, free time to explore the city, so had left his hotel early, camera slung around his neck, and ventured into the streets.

It was a beautiful city - the architecture, the attitudes, the people. Yet another place that he wishes Betty was seeing with him. He thinks of Betty's comment during their last conversation - _you'll have to take me there sometime_. Him and Betty, and his camera, in some of the country's most vibrant cities - it sounded perfect.

He's leaving a coffee shop when he comes across a small store, the exterior dark blue with patterned fabric hanging in the windows, no signage on the outside. Intruiged, he steps inside and finds it filled with miscellaneous items - more fabric, bags, hats, small ornaments. Its a labyrinth of junk and treasures and he wants to see what he can find.

He wanders over to the collection of jewellery on the far side. Betty rarely wore jewellery - usually reserving it for special occasions - but he had been struggling to find a Christmas gift for her and he had wanted to buy something while he was travelling. Unfortunately the jewellery in front of him isn't really her style - thick, black chokers and items made of ugly, brightly-colored plastic.

He spins the little rack with his finger, pausing it's movement when one necklace catches his eye. It's a choker, like the other necklaces on the rack, but this one is thinner, daintier, made of silver with a little charm hanging in the center. A simple, silver crown.

Before he can question his decision, he picks it up and carries it to the counter.

 

 

 

The night before the last show - what should have been his last night before he returned to New York - he calls her from his hotel room.

She sounds tired, drained by the week, and he wishes they were in her apartment, snuggled up on her sofa and watching mindless television. That's how they had spent most evenings together before he left, trading soft kisses on her couch and curled around each other.

"I've been thinking about when you come home." There's a hint of nervousness in her voice and Jughead's stomach flips.

It had been a fear of his that Betty would grow bored of him in his absence, find herself re-assessing the changes in their relationship when he was no longer around. Archie had told him he was being irrational, that Betty really liked him and he had nothing to worry about. And he knew that was true, Betty had made it very clear with her soft words and softer touches, but the small part of Jughead that thought all of this was too good to be true tensed up as he waited for her to continue.

"I think we should make a real go of things. You know, try actually dating."

He sighs in relief.

"I'd love that, Betts."

"Awesome," she smiles. "Well, the balls in your court, Jug. But maybe don't wait another six years to ask me out."

He chuckles. "I won't, I promise."

When he hangs up, he goes go out onto his balcony to smoke. The smoking ban was kind of a pain in the ass but the cool night air was helping to clear his head.

He inhales, forearms resting on the railing. The lights of the city stretch out and twinkle in front of him, pretty and bright. It's a great city, a huge contrast to both New York and Seattle, but he doesn't want to be here. And he definitely didn't want to spend Christmas here.

He stubs his cigarette out and takes a seat at the edge of his bed. The idea of just leaving, of flying back to New York without a word, had seemed appealing but Jughead had to remind himself that he no longer worked freelance. He had a real job and responsibilities now and he needed to be respectful.

He makes two phone calls before he calls to sleep. One to his boss, requesting to cut his time in LA to one week, and one to an airline, booking a flight to New York in a week's time.

 

 

 

As soon as he lands at JFK, his whole body begins to thrum with anticipation. In six months, New York had really started to feel like home and he knew Betty and his other friends were a big part of that. He had never been so excited to see them.

He goes to his apartment first - showers, checks his mail and his messages, packs a small backpack, slips into his winter coat. It's noon when he gets into his truck, ready to make the drive to Riverdale. It shouldn't take him longer than an hour and he had called Fred before he left, asking him to let Archie know that he was coming and if he could crash at his house.

He slips a new CD into his stereo - a signed copy of _The Bends_ that the band had gifted to him before he left. He hums along to the music at his drives out of the city, even smiling when _High and Dry_ begins to play. Nothing was going to dampen his mood.

 

 

 

His smalltown looks exactly as it had six years ago. The sign is the same, the houses are the same, the roads are the same, and he imagines the people are, too. It's as if everything is frozen in the turn of the decade. But he is not the same boy that left in 1990.

He pulls up outside of the Andrews home and the similarities he finds there make him truly nostalgic. His eyes fall on the white porch swing hanging out front and his stomach does a little flip, thinking of the girl one house over.

He slings his backpack over his shoulder as he gets out of the truck, and heads not to his best friend's house, but to the house next door.

Alice Cooper answers, looking as immaculate and intimidating as she had in his youth.

She arches one thin eyebrow. "Jughead Jones. Haven't seen you around here in a while."

He smiles nervously, "Hey, Mrs Cooper. It's nice to see you again. Is Betty around?"

Alice turns to call out for her but Betty is already there, face lighting up as she sees him.

"Juggie? What are you doing here?"

She's a vision, even in her oversized sweater and jeans, and he grins as their eyes meet through the open doorway.

"Hey, Betts."

She slips past her mother and throws herself into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?" she asks as she pulls back, cupping his face between her hands.

"I asked to come home early. I didn't want to spend Christmas on the other side of the country."

Her smile is beautiful, wide and sincere, lighting up her eyes.

"I'm so glad you're here," she says, pulling him into another brief hug.

They pull apart as Alice clears her throat behind them.

"Aren't you going to invite him in, Elizabeth?" Alice asks as she turns away, no longer hovering in the doorway. 

"Do you want to come inside? It's kind of cold out here."

More like freezing, the sky an unblemished white. It was going to snow, no doubt. He wants to have her in his arms again, soak in some of her body heat.

"No, it's okay. I said I'd be at Archie's by now. They'll be wondering where I am."

Her face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Warmth radiates through his chest as he realizes she really has missed him; maybe as much as he's missed her.

"Oh, okay. Well we should meet up tomorrow. Do something fun for Christmas Eve-Eve."

"Yeah, about that," he begins, hand automatically reaching up to rub across the back of his neck. "I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to go out tomorrow night."

Her mouth drops slightly, eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Like a date?" she asks softly, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

"Exactly like a date."

"I'd love to," she replies, her smile now wide and obvious. "Where are we going?"

Color rises to his cheeks as he admits, "When we were kids, I kind of always imagined taking you to a movie and then dinner at Pop's for our first date."

Her eyes are sparkling as she leans forward to press a kiss against his cheek and then cups it in her hand, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. "That sounds perfect. I'll see you at seven?"

"Seven, it is."

When Archie ushers him inside his childhood home, he asks what's got him in such a good mood. He shrugs, one corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

"Guess it's just the time of year," he reasons. "Holiday cheer and all that good stuff."

 

 

 

It was good to be back in the Andrews home.

He had basically lived there during his last two years of high school, had often felt closer to Fred than his own father, and the sense of familiarity and comfort immediately came rushing back. Although, he hadn't seen Fred in six years - he had always stayed in Seattle during Christmas, not quite ready to return to his hometown - a fact he had reminded him of when Jughead had walked through the door.

"Who's this stranger in my hallway?"

Jughead had never hugged him so tight.

Catching up and hanging out with Fred and Archie had occupied most of his day, leaving him almost unable to worry about the date. He still found the time, of course - Jughead's insecurities and anxiety could never be ignored for too long.

He had asked Veronica about Betty's favorite flower - and cringed at the squeal of delight she emitted at the question - and went to the only florist in town to get a small bouquet. He'd also bought a new button-up and cleaned up his boots. He knew Betty wouldn't care what he was wearing or how clean his shoes were, but tonight was special, and he wanted to look good for her.

Archie and Veronica wish him luck as he leaves, giddy smiles on both their faces. He had expected Veronica to be excited about two of her oldest friends dating, but Archie was even worse, teasing Jughead all day and telling him how happy he was that they were finally going on a date.

As embarrassed as he feels, Archie's support means a lot. He was the only person he had ever told about his crush on Betty - although he never divulged just _how much_ he liked her - and Archie's clear approval, even years later, alleviates some of his anxiety.

He takes a few deep breaths as he walks to the Cooper house and he tries not to clutch the bouquet too tightly. He knocks on the front door and waits on the porch, his exhalations white in the December night.

Betty answers the door, a shy smile on her shiny lips, and her hair styled long and straight, framing her face. Jughead feels unworthy as he takes her in.

She's in a pale blue dress, the length modest and the straps wide, but the fabric clings to her body in a way that makes Jughead's mouth goes dry.

She's always been beautiful, could blow him away in jeans and a t-shirt, but the Betty stood before him is something he's never seen before. He's noticed the differences - the curves that hadn't existed when she was a teenager, the confidence she now exudes - but those attributes had never been as obvious as they are in that moment.

He wishes he had his camera, wishes he could document the ethereal beauty in front of him.

He realizes he's been standing there, staring like an idiot, when her face falls, uncertainty filling her eyes. "Is it too much? I know it's just the Bijou and Pop's but-"

"You're perfect," he states, cutting her off. She opens her mouth, probably to argue with him, but he speaks before she can. "I mean it. You're the most perfect girl I've ever seen."

Her eyes drop to the floor, shy and possibly embarrassed, but when she looks up at him through her lashes there's a sparkle in her eyes that he's never seen before.

"Thank you," she says softly and steps through the doorway to brush her lips against his cheek.

He catches her hand in his as she pulls back and runs his thumb across her knuckles.

"These are for you," he says, passing her the bouquet.

"Thank you," she smiles and runs her fingers delicately across a petal. "Orchids are my favorite."

He makes a mental note to get Veronica a bouquet of her own, as a thank you.

"I just need to put these in some water," she says, pulling her hand away, but it's there again as soon as she returns, her fingers linking through his.

 

 

 

They see the new horror movie that just came out, _Scream_. Jughead wasn't much of a horror fan but the review in Rolling Stone had been good, had praised the way in which the movie skewered cliches in the genre.

Betty knew that Drew Barrymore was one of the stars, which was enough to draw her in. This didn't surprise Jughead - he'd seen magazines in her apartment where she graced the cover, had noticed the similarities between Betty's style and the candid photographs he would see of Drew.

Neither of them had expected her to die five minutes into the movie.

"I still can't believe she was killed so soon. She's on the poster!" Betty cries in exasperation as they drive to the diner.

Jughead chuckles. "You have to admit, it was an awesome scene."

"Oh, it totally was! But also misleading."

He's still laughing as they pull into the parking lot. He comes around to open her door, a move that earns him a gorgeous smile. Her hand slips into his again as they enter the diner and he feels warm all over despite the temperature outside. This was one of his teenage fantasies come to life; while most teenaged boys dreamt of getting their hand downs a girl's pants for the first time, Jughead had just wanted to take Betty Cooper out on a real date.

"Is that really you, Jughead?" Pop's asks from behind the counter as soon as they enter, a huge smile on his face.

"You're best customer has returned," he jokes, although a part of him does wonder if his leaving caused a significant dip in business. He had spent a lot of time here during his school years.

"I didn't know you two were an item," Pop remarks as he leads them to a booth. "So nice that you've found each other. You were such good friends when you were kids."

Jughead feels that he should correct him, tell him that it's a first date so they haven't exactly found each other yet, but Betty speaks before he does.

"It was kind of inevitable," Betty responds, but her soft expression is trained on Jughead.

 _Inevitable_. Now that he's here with her, his daydream made manifest, it's hard to imagine that their relationship was ever going to become anything other than this. But it's a new feeling, one he's still getting used to. He could never imagine the adult Betty and Jughead being _just friends_ , but the younger Jughead had never even entertained the idea that Betty would see him as anything else.

The word weighs on him, the implication of what Betty was saying clouding his thoughts.

"Hey, Betts?" She looks over at him, shifting her gaze from the window. She's bathed in the red light glowing from the sign outside and he wishes, once again, that he had his camera. "What did you mean by 'inevitable'?"

He can't be sure in the light, but he thinks she's blushing. Her eyes drop to the table and flicker back up.

"I don't know," she shrugs, "I mean, we did kind of - what was the term Cheryl used? - 'dance around each other' in high school. Even if neither of us recognized it at the time. And now this just feels so right, you know, like it was always gonna happen."

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, because he did feel that way and he loves that she does, too.

She had implied that she had had a crush on him when they were younger, that she had wanted more than friendship. That night on the porch swing had been a mutual thing, definitely not unrequited on Jughead's part. She had told him that, been honest, and now he owed her the same.

He wants to lay his cards on the table, tell her in no uncertain terms how he felt about her - how he _feels_ about her - and be as honest as he can.

They order their food, Betty surprising him by ordering a substantial meal - more food than he'd ever seen her in eat in the last five months. He waits until the waitress has left before he takes her hand in his, resting them on the table between them.

"Betty..." he begins.

She smiles at him but she likes slightly concerned. "Jug? What is it?"

"I need to tell you something," he admits. "I need to tell you how I really felt about you in high school."

She looks surprised but doesn't say anything, waits for him to continue. He licks his lips, suddenly dry as his nerves get the best of him.

"I know it's obvious - what with the show and all of my photographs - but I need to make it clear. I need you to understand how important tonight is for me."

"Juggie," she breathes out. He knows he's being intense but this is a declaration nine years in the making and he needs her to know.

"I was infatuated with you throughout the whole of high school, and maybe even before that," he admits and her eyes widen just slightly, clearly not expecting that. "It started when I was fifteen. When Archie and all of the other guys started noticing girls and asking them out, I only ever noticed you. I thought it was just friendship turning into a crush and that one day I'd move on, but then I was eighteen and I still only had eyes for you.

"I decided that it was living in a smalltown, unable to interact with people that I hadn't known since birth, that was stopping me form moving on. So instead of following you and Archie, and Ron to New York, I went to Seattle."

"Did it work?" she asks, quietly, fingers still wrapped around his.

"For a time, maybe. I had a few flings, I didn't think about you as much - although I think that's probably because you weren't around. But my feelings never completely disappeared. You were still there, in the back of my thoughts, and I soon realized that no matter how many girls I hooked up with, I was never going to feel for them what I felt for you." He squeezes her fingers. "And I don't think I ever will."

Her eyes fill up with tears and panic seizes him. She slips out of the booth quickly, and Jughead is so upset at the thought of her fleeing that he doesn't notice her slipping into his side, doesn't register her thigh against his until her hands are cupping his face and she's kissing him.

She tastes salty, her lips dampened by the few tears that fell, and he licks the salt away, hand sliding up into her hair as he groans. It's a fervent meeting of lips and tongue, completely inappropriate for a family-oriented diner, but he can't find it in himself to care. He had been so sure that she was about to reject him, freaked out by his admission and his too-intense feelings, but instead she was kissing him in a way she never had before.

She eventually pulls away, her fingers resting against his neck as she touches her forehead to his. Her breath washes over his face in short pants and he closes his eyes, runs his hand along the dip of her waist.

"Oh! Sorry, kids."

They both turn at the sound of the waitress arriving with their milkshakes. She gives them a sheepish smile as she sets them down and Betty disentangles herself but remains beside him.

"Juggie," she begins and when she turns to look at him, her eyes are still glassy with unshed tears. "Thank you for telling me that."

He smiles softly and reaches up to cup her jaw, runs his thumb across her cheek. Her eyes close at the contact and she lays her hand over his.

"Seeing as this is a night of confessions-" She curls her fingers around his and pulls their joined hands into her lap. "-I have something of my own that I think I should share."

"You can tell me anything," he promises, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She nods, licks her lips. "Do you know why I wanted you to take pictures of me?" He shakes his head, unsure where this is going. "Well I've been seeing my therapist for years now to discuss my self-esteem issues and my eating habits."

His brows pull together as he thinks back on his earlier observation. He had definitely noticed that she had ordered more food but he hadn't thought the way she usually ate was unusual. Just controlled, like many women he knew; he had assumed she was trying a new fad diet.

"I've always had a strange relationship with food," she admits. "My mother was very controlling, as you know, and I often experienced anxiety when I ate something unhealthy, worrying about what she would say.

"When I went to college, it got worse. With the added workload and having to live independently, I would stop eating when I was stressed. So instead of gaining the freshman fifteen, I lost it."

He sighs, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her hand. "Jesus, Betty, I had no idea."

"It's okay. I'm much better now," she smiles, and although it's smaller, he knows it's genuine. "Veronica and Archie helped. They were both worried so they made me see a doctor, who then referred me to a therapist. I've been seeing her for a while and I really like her."

  
"That's good. I'm glad you have someone to talk to," he says and he really means it. Someone as good and kind and beautiful as Betty should get all the support she needs. "So what does this have to do with the pictures?"

"She says I need to be kinder to myself." She emits a little, humorless laugh as if the notion is strange, her eyes falling to their hands. "I know she's right. Most people see imperfections when they look in the mirror but I know some of the thoughts in my head are harsh, even cruel on a bad day."

Her eyes flicker back up to his and the intensity he felt earlier is there, now in her eyes.

"And your pictures..." She pauses to take a deep breath, "I've never felt as pretty as when I see myself through your eyes."

He leans forward to kiss her softly, tenderly.

"You're gorgeous," he tells her as he pulls away, both hands now cupping her jaw. "I know that hearing that isn't going to magically make everything better, but I need you to know that I truly mean it."

She nods and drops another quick kiss on his lips. Her smile is shy when she pulls away and he can tell she's feeling some discomfort after being so candid with him.

"We should probably drink our shakes before they melt," she says, trying to move past the topic. 

He doesn't want to push her into a conversation she isn't comfortable with, so he lets it drop.

He leans forward to take a sip of his milkshake and is immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia; it tastes like his childhood and better than his memories.

He expects Betty to move back to her side of the booth and is surprised when she picks up her own shake. She settles back into the seat, leaning into his side, and as he lays his arm across the back of the booth, her hand comes down to rest on his thigh.

 

 

 

It's late when they drive home but Jughead isn't ready for the night to be over yet. He had almost asked her if she wanted to go to the river but had quickly scrapped that thought. He may have been feeling nostalgic tonight but he wasn't about to take her to the local teenage make-out spot.

"I know tonight got a little heavy-" they both laugh, "-but I had a really good time," she tells him as they idle outside of her house.

He smiles. "Me, too, Betts."

She unbuckles her seatbelt but hesitates as she reaches for the handle.

"Do you want to come inside? My parents are with Polly, they won't be back for another hour."

It feels very high school, sneaking into her house while her parents aren't home, but Jughead isn't going to turn down the chance to be alone with her for a little longer.

He shuts off the engine. "Sure."

He follows her up the pathway, through the front door, and then to her childhood bedroom. He'd been in there before, and it looked exactly the same, but the circumstances were different now. She knew how he felt and she felt the same way. She wasn't asking him to come over to study or hang out with her and Veronica. They were adults and there was intention behind her request.

He wanders around the room as she turns on lights and hangs their coats on the rack on her door. Everything is still very pink and floral, and the Depeche Mode and Blondie posters are still up on the walls. Even her bedding is the same, a polka dot set that he recognizes. But there's a selection of Polaroids outlining the frame of her vanity that he's never seen before that make him pause.

There are five pictures. One is of the four them - himself, Betty, Veronica and Archie - in a booth at Pop's, milkshakes in hand. Archie was going through his Miami Vice phase, an oversized white blazer draped over his shoulders, and it makes him laugh. He'd have to remind him of that sometime.

There's two of her and Veronica, smiling at the camera in their cheerleading uniforms, pom-poms in front of them.

The fourth is a sweet shot of her and a heavily pregnant Polly at her baby shower, their close bond visible even in stillness, but it's the fifth Polaroid that really catches his attention.

Betty, stood between him and Archie, head thrown back in laughter. Archie is laughing in that way of his - eyes scrunched up and face so open and friendly. Jughead's laughing, too, but his eyes are more focused. He's looking over at Betty, pure affection in his gaze, and God, _had he really been that fucking obvious?_

"I love that one," Betty says over his shoulder, hand resting on his bicep. "I love the way you're looking at me."

He swallows and turns to her, meets her gaze. She lifts her hand to run her fingers along his jaw.

"It's the same way your looking at me now," she murmurs, and then they're kissing.

He takes a moment to register that he is kissing Betty Cooper in her bedroom, yet another fantasy checked off the list. His hands fall on her hips as he back her towards her bed. She falls back against the comforter, hair fanning out behind her. He holds himself above her with his hands planted on the bed and Betty lifts her knees up, the fabric of her dress riding up her thighs as he settles between her legs.

It's unhurried, slower than the kiss they shared in the diner. He feels the same desire pooling in his stomach, but he knows he isn't going to act on it. He wants her - has always wanted her - but tonight wasn't about sex, and he didn't want their first time to be a quickie in her childhood bed before her parents came home.

He plants three lingering kisses across her neck and jaw before he pulls away. There's eyes meet and she is exquisite, face flushed in the low lamplight, lips pink and swollen.

"I should go," he tells her regretfully, thumb stroking the skin behind her ear, "before your parents get home."

"Yeah," she agrees. She licks her lips and his eyes follow the movement. "You're probably right."

"Maybe just one more kiss," he murmurs and dips back down to capture her lips again.

They kiss until he is grinding against her, her hips rising up to meet his as he presses himself between her legs. He knows he has to go before this goes to far, and pulls back abruptly, rising to his feet.

She looks shocked at the sudden loss of his weight, rising up on her elbows to look at him. She's beautiful, even with messy hair and her pretty dress wrinkled around her hips.

"I really should go." He bends down to give her one more kiss, reluctantly pulls away. "Call me when you're free tomorrow. I have a gift for you."

"Really?" She grins. "I have something for you, too."

He can't resist stealing yet another kiss before he leaves and he really does go this time, jogging the short distance between her house and Archie's.

Archie and Veronica are watching TV when he lets himself in and both turn to him when enters the room. He throws himself down into the armchair with a sigh, a smile stretching across his face, unbidden.

"That smile says it all," Veronica observes, tone equal parts teasing and gleeful. "I guess the dress did the trick."

He raises one eyebrow. "You chose that dress?"

She grins, proud. "She called me yesterday, said she needed help. She wanted to look special for your date."

She was definitely getting some flowers.

"Well she looked incredible. Not that she doesn't always look great, but..." He trails off, half-smiles at Veronica. "You did a great job, Ronnie."

She smirks. "I know how to make a man speechless, Jughead."

"Sure do, babe," Archie says, planting a sloppy kiss against her cheek.

She giggles, slapping playfully at his chest as he pushes her back against the couch to plant more kisses on her face. Jughead watches them, amused, and for the first time, jealously.

He wants that with Betty. Wants familiarity, and cuddles on the couch on cold, winter nights and the freedom to shower her with affection whenever he wants.

He wants Betty to be his girlfriend, to make this thing between them real, and he hopes that tomorrow he can make it happen.

 

 

 

Jughead has never really bought into the excitement surrounding Christmas. He's not religious, so there was no tradition of attending church, and with his mom long gone, the only family he had to celebrate with was his dad. December 25th was usually a day like any other in the trailer - left over takeout and watching TV on the couch as his dad drank his way through pack after pack of beer, until he passed out.

Even when he'd gotten older and started spending the day with the Andrews, he could never seem to 'get into the holiday spirit' and that hadn't changed when he became an adult.

Archie and Veronica, on the other hand, were like a couple of six year olds, soaking up all of the red-and-green, tinsel-covered, consumerist bullshit they came across. They loved this time of year and assumed everyone around them to love it, too.

Jughead was about to lose his mind.

From the minute he woke up, Christmas has been a constant assault on his senses. If festive music wasn't playing on the radio, they were both singing it as loudly as they could. There was wrapping paper everywhere and stacks of gifts around the house, blocking his path whenever he tried to move around. He had expected Fred to be pissed off with the invasion of his home but he had been sucked in too, and was watching Miracle on 34th Street in the living room, a glass of eggnog in hand.

He needs to get out of the house.

Betty answers the phone quickly, with a polite, "Cooper residence, Betty speaking."

"Hey, Betts. It's me."

"Oh, hey, Jug." He can hear her smiling and it makes him smile for the first time that day. "I was just about to call you."

"You were? What's up?"

"Well last night you said to call you when I was free..." She trails off, unsure. "Unless you're too busy."

"Nope! Definitely not too busy." He'd totally forgotten what he said last night. The time they spent in Betty's bedroom was kind of blur for him, just hazy memories of her lips on his and her body beneath his hands. "Where do you wanna meet?"

"Well my parents just left, so my house is empty."

The thought of being alone with her again immediately sends him mind into the gutter, but he pulls himself together. He wanted to see so he could give her his gift, not to try and get her into bed.

"Sounds good. I'll be there in ten."

He tucks the bigger gift under his arm and slips the smaller package into his coat pocket. The snow crunches beneath his boots as he crosses the lawns to her house and she's waiting for him at the door when he arrives, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

"I put some spiked eggnog in there," she tells him with a wink, as she hands him the cup.

She hangs his coat on the hook and brushes some of the snow off his hair as they stand in the doorway. He smiles, takes a sip of the coffee as he relishes in her easy affection.

"Merry Christmas Eve," she says, eyes bright, and when Betty's throwing Christmas cheer in his face he doesn't find it nearly as annoying.

"Merry Christmas Eve, babe."

A pretty blush spreads across her cheeks as the endearment falls from his mouth. He leans down to give her a quick kiss, her lips warm and inviting against the cold of his.

She moves over to the couch and he grabs the small gift out of his pocket before he joins her.

"Open mine first," she demands, handing him a neatly-wrapped, square box.

He begins to remove the paper carefully, not wanting to tear at her work, and she laughs.

"Just rip it open, Juggie."

He gives up trying to slip his nail beneath the tape, and with her permission, rips open the edge and pulls the rest of the paper off. The box beneath is non-descript and his brows pull together as he moves to open the top.

His eyes go wide as he opens it up. "Shit, Betty. This is way too much."

Inside are two lenses, both high quality and neither of them cheap.

She's beaming. "Do you like them?"

"They're amazing. But Betty, these lenses are expensive."

She shrugs. "I wouldn't have bought them if I didn't have the money." Then she smirks at him, eyes full of mirth. "And what you're supposed to say is 'thank you'."

"Thank you," he replies and punctuates his gratitude with a kiss.

He gives her to larger gift and she is delighted when he tells her this is just the first.

"Jug! This is awesome." She lifts the camera out of the box, turning it over in her hands as she inspects it.

"It was my first digital camera I bought in college. I know you've been taking some pictures of your own, and I'm not using it anymore, so I wanted you to have it."

"That's so sweet." She kisses his cheek. "Thank you, I love it."

He hands her the small gift next, the implication of the jewellery inside making him nervous. She removes the paper and lifts the lid, emits a quiet gasp when she sees what's inside.

"Oh, Juggie. It's beautiful," she says softly, fingers running across the silver chain. She lifts it out of the packaging then, thumb running across the pendant hanging in the center and turns to look at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "A crown? Like your beanie in high school?"

"Uh, yeah." His hand is twitching, desperate to reach up and rub at his neck, his typical nervous tick, but he keeps it on his thigh. "I know it's kind of corny, but I liked the thought of my girlfriend wearing a crown of her own."

"Your girlfriend?" she repeats, voice quiet. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"At the risk of sounding like an eighth-grader - yes, I am."

There's a brilliant smile on her face as she drops the gift into her lap and cups his face in her hands. The kiss she gives him is sweet and chaste, her mouth brushing against his with none of the heat from the night before.

She's still smiling when she pulls away and as his eyes flicker across her face, Jughead realizes that, _holy shit, Betty Cooper is his girlfriend_.

They clean up the paper and then settle onto her couch, Betty curled into his side. It's the exact scene he had imagined, longed for, the night before as he watched Archie and Veronica. His arm tightens around her waist at the thought, as Betty decides on a channel for them to watch.

"V said Fred was cooking for you all tomorrow. Are you going to spend the whole day there?" she asks, her head on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist.

He takes a deep breath and decides to just tell her. Total transparency had been a theme the past couple of days.

"Most of the day, yeah. But I'm going to see my dad in the afternoon."

She lifts her head to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You are? Is he living somewhere close, then?"

"You could say that. He's in Morris County Correctional."

"Oh." Her eyebrows pull together as she takes in the information. "I had no idea. How long has he been in there?"

"Almost a year," he answers. "He gets out soon."

"That makes sense. I didn't see him at all when I came home last December." She sighs heavily, brushes her hand along his side in a comforting gesture. "That's horrible, Jug. I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me, but... what did he do?"

"Another DUI arrest. It was a third offence and he was also violating the terms of his probation, so he got jail time."

"Shit." She snuggles closer, not an inch of space between them. "Do you want me to come with you?"

His heart gives a little squeeze. She was willing to leave her family on Christmas Day just to support him.

"No, it's okay. We talk on the phone a lot but I haven't seen him since he got locked up. I should probably go alone," he responds. "But thank you," he adds and presses a kiss against her hair.

"That's okay. When was the last time you saw him?"

Jughead thinks back to his graduation ceremony, his dad looking uncomfortable in the only suit he owned, face unshaven but expression undeniably proud as he watched him walk the stage.

"Graduation. He flew out to Seattle. We had lunch and went to the Space Needle. It was nice."

In fact, it had been a great day; his dad was happy and healthy, six months sober at that point. Of course, he had relapsed only a few months later, called Jughead from a cell in the middle of the night, but the memory of that day still made him smile. 

"Well say 'hi' to him for me. Hopefully I'll see him soon."

He hopes she will, too.

"I will."

 

 

 

Jughead leg bounces beneath the table, his eyes trained on the open door. Inmates filter out in a line, embracing  their loved ones as they greet them.

There is a small tree in the corner of the room, a single string of lights wrapped around it. It looks sad and dull, like the dirty-white room it's in, and Jughead thinks this has to be the most depressing place you could be on Christmas Day.

His dad emerges from the door, one of the last to enter, a small smile on his face as he spots him.

"Jug," he says and wraps his arms around him. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, dad."

They sit across from one another and Jughead notes the similarities and differences since the last time they saw each other. There's a layer of stubble covering his jaw, as always, and more grey at his temples, but his eyes are bright and focused. It was the face of sober FP Jones, and despite the years of disappointment, it never failed to make Jughead happy.

"I was surprised when you said you were gonna be in Riverdale, son. I didn't think you'd ever go back to that place."

Jughead shrugs. "A lot has changed in the last six months. I never felt like going home until now."

"You staying with Fred?" Jughead nods. "He was always good to you, Jug. Better than I could ever be."

Jughead doesn't want to spend his time here listening to his dad berate himself over his past mistakes, so he decides to change the subject.

"I had Christmas dinner with him today, and Archie and Veronica. They're getting married in March."

FP's eyebrows raise. "No shit. Real high school sweethearts. That's rare these days."

Jughead can't help but think of Betty, wonder if that's what she and him would be if he had been braver in high school and told her how he felt.

"Yeah, it's great. They're really happy."

He sits up straighter in his seat, rests his forearms on the table. He doesn't know why, but he feels nervous to tell his dad about Betty. He's never had this conversation before, has never been in an actual relationship that required 'telling the parents'. It feels weird to do it for the first time at the age of twenty-four.

"I have something I wanted to tell you."

"Something good, I hope."

"It is," he assures him. It's more than good, it's the best. "Do you remember Betty Cooper?"

FP's eyebrows knit together. "The sweet, blonde girl who used to come over to study?"

"Yeah." Jughead's leg starts bouncing again. "We, um, started hanging out again this summer and, well, we're dating now. She's my girlfriend."

One side of FP's mouth ticks up in a smile, his eyes lighting up at his admission.

"Huh," he says and leans back into his plastic chair. "I always did wonder if you had a thing for her when you were kids. Well I'm happy for you, Jug. She's a great girl."

"She is," he agrees, smiling softly. "She said 'hi', by the way."

FP's expression turns fond, a typical reaction to Betty. "Tell her I said 'hi' back. I'll have to come see you guys when I get out."

"Of course. You can come to city, spend a few days there."

His dad smiles properly now, wide but close-mouthed. "I'd really like that."

Jughead catches him up on his new life in New York, all the things he'd never had time to explain over the phone. It's nice, easy, chatting with his dad like it hasn't been years since they last saw each other face-to-face. There's no denying that his dad has made some mistakes, but Jughead truly believes that he's a good person, deep down, and he hopes he does make that trip to the city when he's released. He wants them to have a relationship.

When their time is up, he gives his dad another hug and tells him to call him when his release date is finalized.

"I'll come get you," he promises. "It won't take me long to drive here from New York."

"Thanks, Jug. Appreciate it."

"I put some money on your commissary, by the way. Little gift for ya," he says with a half-smile.

"You're a good kid," FP replies, also smiling, but there's a serious look in his eye. "Don't know how that happened but I'm grateful for it."

"Thanks, dad," he says, feeling embarrassed. He doesn't think he'll ever be comfortable with his dad praising him.

"Say hello to Fred and Archie for me. And send me some more pictures! I love seeing them."

"Will do."

They share one last hug before Jughead leaves, climbing into his car and turning on the stereo. The radio comes on, Christmas music filtering through the speakers and Jughead smiles to himself.

He has leftovers waiting for him at the Andrews home, a bottle of whiskey to share with Veronica, and plans to meet his girlfriend tomorrow and go for lunch with her parents.

As Chris Rea sings about driving home for Christmas, Jughead thinks this time of year may not be so bad after all.

 

 

 

Betty is wrapped up in a big coat and a thick scarf, white drops of snow stuck to her hair and shoulders, and a overnight bag in her hand. Her face is pink from the cold and Jughead ushers her into his apartment, brings her into the warmth of his living room.

"How the hell did you get over here in those?" he asks, pointing at the strappy heels on her feet.

"With difficulty," she replies. "Hopefully it doesn't snow too much tonight or you'll be carrying me back."

It was New Years Eve, the busiest night of the year in the city. The streets were already filled with people, going to parties and making their way to Times Square to watch the ball drop. They were both going to Cheryl's party, and as she lived only a few blocks from Jughead, Betty was staying the night.

Since they had returned from Riverdale on the twenty-seventh, they had spent every chance they could together. When they weren't working, they were going out to dinner or hanging out at each other's apartments. It had been an amazing few days, totally wrapped up in each other, and while Jughead knew their relationship wouldn't always be like this, he was making the most of it while he could.

And tonight, Betty was staying over, something that hadn't happened since Halloween. He was both nervous and excited about it.

She leans forward to give him a quick kiss and then begins to unwind her scarf and shrug out of her coat. He takes her bag from her, carries it into her bedroom.

"Did Cheryl say we have to be there at eight?" he asks as he walks back into the living room.

"Yeah. V and Archie said they'd meet us outside her building."

"Cool," he replies and then stops short when he sees her, still standing in the hallway.

"What?" she asks self-consciously when she notices him staring, and smoothes her hands over her dress.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "I'm just not used to seeing you so dressed up. You look incredible."

She looks more than incredible, but he can't find the right word. The dress she's wearing is tight and black, like something from Veronica's wardrobe, not Betty's. Her shoulders are exposed by the thin straps and the choker he gifted her is clasped around her throat, the crown charm resting just above her collarbones.

She looks _sexy_ and for all the years he's spent assigning different adjectives to Betty's beauty, that has never been one of them.

She comes closer, slides her hands along his chest and links them around his neck.

"Thank you," she says, eyes a clear-green beneath her sooty black lashes as she looks up at him.

Her fingers slide up into his hair as her lips meet his in a slow kiss. He slides his tongue her mouth, tastes cool mint, and moans as her tongue meets his. His hands slide down her back, rest at the low dip, the swell of her ass beneath his fingers.

He's wondering if they can skip the party and ring in the New Year in his bedroom when she pulls pack, hands coming to rest on his jaw.

She smiles, lips now swollen. "We should leave soon. We don't want to be late."

He reluctantly agrees, "Yeah, you're right," and then gives her one last kiss.

He changes into a nicer shirt, puts on some cologne, and grabs the package on his dresser. He leaves his bedroom and joins her on the sofa.

Her brow furrows as he passes her the gift. "What's this?" she asks. "Did you get me another gift?"

"Yeah. It's just something small that I thought of after Christmas."

"Oh, okay."

She slips her finger beneath the paper and opens it up, revealing a brown, leather photo album.

"Take a look inside," he encourages and she lifts the cover to reveal three photographs arranged on the first page - three pictures he had taken of her over the last six months.

She flicks through the album, smiling as she finds page after page filled with her image. There's a few from high school in there, too, ones that hadn't made it into his show, and countless others from the journeys they made together during the fall.

"Juggie, this is so sweet. Thank you, so much."

She kisses him softly, sweetly, smiling against his lips.

He doesn't tell her, but he hopes she'll look at this album whenever she's feeling low, and remember just how beautiful she is, especially in his eyes.

They both bundle into their coats, readying themselves for the onslaught of the New York winter. The snow is still falling when they get outside but Betty manages to walk the few blocks without much trouble, her arm linked tight through Jughead's to keep her steady.

Archie and Veronica are already waiting for them when they reach Cheryl's building, hands buried in their pockets, and collars popped to cover their ears. Veronica excitedly yells, "Happy New Year," as they approach, even though they're still hours away from midnight.

Betty's hand slips into his as they ride the elevator to Cheryl's floor and he feels almost proud when he walks into the party with her on his arm. He was still getting used to the fact that Betty was his girlfriend, that they were together now and everyone knew it. He still felt a little thrill whenever he got to introduce her to somebody by the title.

The kiss in his hallway lingers in the back of his mind and finds it near impossible to keep his hand off her. She must feel the same way as she meets his touch with touches of her own; hands covering his as he wraps his arms around her from behind, her hand resting on his knee as they sit and chat with one of the other guests.

He's cautious about his drinking. His New Year's in Seattle usually involved getting wasted with his friends from college but that wouldn't be happening this year. The night of Halloween had been heady and fun, their passionate kisses spurred by the alcohol they consumed. But he has a feeling that they're going to take a new step in their relationship tonight and if it does happen, he wants to be clear-headed and present in the moment.

Late into the evening, as Jughead is nursing his second beer and the girls have stumbled off the makeshift dance floor, complaining about their sore feet, Betty drops into his lap, one hand resting against the back of his neck.

"You okay?" he asks, checking for any signs of drunkenness. He was staying relatively sober but that didn't mean Betty was.

"I'm good," she responds, eyes clear and smile soft. She drops a kiss against his lips. "I love this song," she declares and Jughead focuses, trying to decipher it.

It's a pop song from the new Romeo and Juliet movie Betty had dragged him to before he went on tour. It's catchy but mellow, not something he'd usually listen to but had heard everywhere due to the popularity of the movie. And it sounded especially good as Betty sang it near his ear, a small smile on her face as she swayed to the music.

_Love me, love me, say that you love me..._

He watches her above him, happy and flushed and gorgeous. The colored lights from Cheryl's large living room dance across the planes of her face and make the crown charm glint as it catches the light. Her touch against his neck is feathersoft, enough to make him shiver, and the weight of her in his lap feels so _right_.

He doesn't remember ever feeling this content, this happy, and it's not just his new relationship with Betty. It's the city, it's satisfaction in his new job, it's being re-connected with people from his past and having his best friend back in his life. He feels like he belongs here, at this party with these people, with this amazing girl in his arms.

He feels like he belongs with _her_.

Jughead's never been in love before but he thinks he's close to experiencing it for the first time. The thought should scare him but instead it makes him feel warm and his arm tightens around her waist reflexively.

The song plays on, Betty's sweet voice in his ear, and Jughead relaxes into his seat, awaiting the countdown for the New Year.

_I can't care about anything but you..._

 

 

 

Groups of drunk, happy people pass by them as they leave Cheryl's apartment, hand-in-hand. The snow has stopped falling but it's still so cold, and Betty leans in close as they walk back to his apartment.

They ducked out earlier than everyone else, the long, thorough kiss they shared at the stroke of midnight leaving them both desperate to be alone.

The journey back is, thankfully, short, and Jughead has Betty pressed up against his door before he can even unlock it.

"Lets go inside," she says against his lips and he reluctantly pulls away to open the door.

As soon as the door is shut behind them, she's kissing him again, pushing his coat from his shoulders and pulling his beanie from his head, both items dropping to the floor. He removes her coat too, and she kicks off her shoes before linking her arms around his neck, her lips meeting his as she guides them backwards into his bedroom.

He's so caught up in her - hands tracing the curve of her hips, tongue tasting the sweetness of champagne - that he doesn't realize they've reached his bed until she's falling, giggling into his mouth. He catches himself before he falls on top of her and he begins to laugh too as he looks down at her. Her cheeks are pink from alcohol and the cold, her pupils are blown wide, and her nose is scrunched up in that adorable way of hers.

He reaches up to smooth a lock of hair from her face.

"You're beautiful," he tells her sincerely.

He's captured many beautiful things from behind his camera lens - people, places, faces - but none of them look as gorgeous as she does in that moment.

Her laughter dissipates, but her mouth is still stretched into a grin as looks up at him with impossibly soft eyes.

"You are, too," she replies, cupping his face and running her thumb across his bottom lip. "I always thought so, even when we were kids. I should have told you. Maybe this would have happened sooner."

"Sometimes I still can't believe it happened at all," he admits. "But I'm so happy it did."

She smiles at his admission and leans up to kiss him. They fall into a lazy rhythm, her mouth meeting his in a long, unhurried kiss, their hips moving gently, searching for friction but content to take things slow.

He lets her take the lead, helps her remove his shirt when she starts working on the buttons and leans back as she pulls her dress over her head.

Stretched out beneath him in only her underwear, Jughead takes her in, runs his hands across skin that he's felt before but never seen bare. Her skin is so creamy and soft, and the pale pink of her nipples stiffens as he runs his thumb across them. She gasps at the sensation and arches her back as cups one of her breasts and repeats the action.

His hands trace across her body, learning every inch of her as they kiss, pausing only to remove their last articles of clothing. He stands at the end of the bed as he removes his boxers and slides his hands along the length of her legs as he moves up to settle between them. He moans as his length brushes against the heat between her thighs, and she whimpers into his mouth as he moves his fingers down to touch her there.

"Can I kiss you here?" he murmurs, fingers circling her clit. He lays kisses across her collarbones, his necklace still resting against her throat.

She nods, tongue darting out to wet her lips, and he kisses them once before he begins to make a path down her body - her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her hips.

"Juggie," she moans as he presses his tongue against her, fingers sinking into his hair automatically as her hips rise up against his mouth.

He holds an arm across her stomach, keeping her still as he works her with his tongue and fingers, pulling her pleasure from her.

She comes with a high, breathless moan of his name, breasts rising and falling with her breaths as he kisses his way back up her body. She presses her lips against his again, tasting herself on his tongue. Her hand slides down his stomach, wraps around his length, and he moans as she begins to pump him.

"Shitty, Betty. You've gotta stop," he begs, already so close, so turned on.

"Okay, okay," she murmurs against his mouth and then guides him between her legs, his head brushing against wet heat.

"Condom," he manages to get out before they go any further, but she shakes her head.

"I'm on the pill," she replies and he moves against her once, twice, before sliding inside in one smooth stroke.

"Fuck," he breathes out as his head drops to her shoulder.

She raises her hips, encouraging him to move, and he pulls back slightly before thrusting in again. It's too good, an incredible feeling made even better because it's _her_ , and she's everything, and he can't believe he's making love to Betty.

His hand slides down and hooks beneath her thigh, pulling her leg up to change the angle. Her mouth drops open in a gasp as she feels him move deeper inside.

He loses himself in sensation, so focused on the divine feeling of her skin against his and making her feel good. They move with each other like they've been doing this for years, like they're meant for each other, and he's never been so sure that she's the one. How could she not be, when they're so perfect together?

She comes first, head thrown back and fingers clutching at his shoulders. He follows soon after, buries his face in her neck as he releases inside of her.

He pulls out carefully and drops down beside her, body still tingling from his orgasm. He turns to look at her, eyes tracing her flushed face and her chest glistening with sweat. She's stunning.

She meets his gaze, lips pulled up into a gorgeous smile.

"Happy New Year, Juggie."

He grins back, cups her cheek in his hand.

"Happy New Year, babe," he replies and punctuates the sentiment with a kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi, drew barrymore is my inspo for betty's wardrobe in this fic, so i had to give her a mention. and i imagine v's got a winona thing going on - velvet dresses, lots of black, very chic


	4. spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end! i'm really gonna miss these two ❤️ 
> 
> this chapter is super fluffy, you've been warned. recommended listening: sway - bic runga, kiss me - sixpence none the richer and of course, fade into you - mazzy star. all of those songs are so lovely and quintessentially 90s.
> 
> i'm considering posting a playlist for this fic, so if you're interested and you follow me on tumblr, keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> thanks so much for reading this and for all of the amazing feedback! i love you all

Betty restrains herself from sighing out loud when Veronica finally decides on a pair of black stilettos. With just over a week until the wedding, Veronica seemed to be having a stress-induced meltdown and had been making last-minute changes and strange decisions. She had called Betty that morning, demanding she meet her at Barney's to buy new shoes for all of the bridesmaids. Wanting to be a helpful maid of honour and a supportive best friend, she had met her at the store and then relcuantly sat through two painful hours of indecision.

Checking her watch, she feels a pang of guilt as she imagines Jughead waiting alone outside the deli, thinking he had been stood up. She was supposed to meet him thirty minutes ago.

"Go meet your man." Her head snaps up at the sound of Veronica's voice, who rolls her eyes. "You've been staring at your watch for the last hour. I know you want to get out of here. You don't need to stick around while I pay."

Betty kisses Veronica on the cheek. "Thanks, V. I'll see you on Friday."

"Say 'hi' to Jughead for me," she calls as Betty walks off in search of the elevator.

The deli was only a block away but she was already so late that she breaks into a jog as soon as her feet hit the sidewalk. It was getting warmer, the turn of the season bringing a rise in temperature, and she feels hot and flustered when she reaches Jughead.

"Hey! I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's alright," he assures her, pushing off from the wall he was leant against. "Veronica acting crazy again?"

"She's freaking out over everything little thing. It's scary to watch. It took her two hours to choose between two pairs of shoes that looked exactly the same," she bemoans. "I don't think I can step foot in Barney's ever again."

Jughead chuckles. "Come on, babe. Lets get you some lunch after your stressful morning."

She grins. "That sounds awesome."

She slips her hand into his and makes to enter the deli when she feels a tug on her hand, making her pause. Jughead pulls her close and cups her cheek as he leans down to kiss her.

"Sorry," he breathes as he pulls away. "I've been thinking about doing that all morning and I couldn't wait any longer."

Her nose brushes against his and she smiles.

"Don't ever apologize for kissing me, Juggie."

She can't resist giving him another quick kiss before leading him inside. They get a table by the window and order a selection of things to share. As he gives their order to the waitress, her foot finds his beneath the table and then slides up to his calf. His eyes slide over to her, a smirk on his lips and she bites down on her bottom lip as she smiles.

They have officially been dating for three months and Betty has never been happier. Being with him was so easy, and so fun, and she didn't think it was just because it was new. They had something real, something that was becoming very serious; she had never been in a relationship like this before.

She knew without a doubt that she loved him. She hasn't told him yet but she thinks he must know. He could he not? Betty could feel the dopey, lovesick expression on her face every time she looked at him, knew that she couldn't keep her hands off him whether in public or in private.

And judging by the equally lovesick looks he throws her way, she's inclined to believe he feels the same.

"So how did the meeting go?" she asks when the waitress leaves.

"Good," he nods. "Really good actually. They want me to do another show in May."

"That's amazing, Juggie. Do you know what the subjects going to be?"

He smiles at her, and there's something shy, almost secretive there.

"I have a few ideas," he replies but doesn't elaborate.

She doesn't push, not wanting to interfere with his artistic process. He'll tell her when he's ready and share his work and ideas in his own time.

"Well I'm sure it will be incredible," she tells him honestly and takes his hands in hers across the table. She loves the freedom she now has to touch him whenever she wants, to show him affection at any time. And after years of separation and pining on both their parts, she makes the most of it.

He's usually embarrassed when she compliments him and this time is no different, his eyes dropping to the table as he says, "Thanks, Betts."

He lifts his gaze then, eyes meeting hers, and presses a kiss against her knuckles.

She definitely loves him.

 

 

 

The following Friday, Betty finds herself in an Italian restaurant in the Upper East Side, seated between Veronica and one of her fellow bridesmaids. It was a Lodge-worthy rehearsal dinner - a lavish restaurant, over-priced food and a small, selective guest list.

Betty had been slightly worried about the dinner. The wedding was the following day and after her erratic behavior and mood swings, she had been expecting a freak-out from Veronica. Surprisingly, her mood was good - it was the most calm she had seen her in weeks - and Betty is flooded with relief. She wants to be there for Veronica, but she's not sure she's equipped to soothe the worries of an anxious bride-to-be the night before her wedding.

Jughead sits across from her, wedged between Archie's divorced parents, and their eyes meet continuously across the table. They share secret smiles, always aware of one another even when they're engaged with the people around them. She loves that she feels close to him even as he sits on the other side of the wide table, surrounded by twenty other people.

Betty eventually forces herself to stop making eyes at him, to focus on something other than her boyfriend, and turns in Veronica's direction. Her eyebrows pull together when she finds her seat empty, plate almost untouched.

"Arch?" she asks, capturing his attention. "Where did V go?"

"Restroom," he answers and although that's a perfectly reasonable explanation for her absence, something pulls at Betty's gut.

She excuses herself and heads to the bathroom, grimacing as she opens the door and hears the sound of retching.

"V?" she calls out.

"In here," Veronica calls back, voice weak and Betty follows her voice to the last stall.

"Oh, V," she sighs at the sight of her best friend kneeling over the toilet. She leans over, gathering her hair in her hands. "Are you okay?" she asks, rubbing her free hand along her back. She'd heard of cold-feet but she didn't think vomiting was a good sign.

"I'm fine," she mumbles, "just pregnant."

Betty gasps. "Oh my god. Are you serious?" Veronica rests her cheek against her hand and nods. "V!" she cries out, a huge smile on her face. "Congratulations. I'm so happy for you."

Veronica sits back against the tiled wall and Betty crouches down to her level. She's looks pale and uncomfortable but there's a soft smile on her face.

"My doctor called today and confirmed it. Archie's so excited. Said it's the best wedding present we could ever get. I promptly reminded him of the two week trip to the Bahamas that my parents are paying for."

They both laugh, the sound echoing around the room.

"Are you feeling okay? Do you need to leave? I can make excuses for you."

"No, it's okay. But thanks."

"No need to thank me. All part of the maid of honor gig," she jokes and then takes Veronica's hand in hers. "This is so exciting, V. You're going to have a baby."

"I know," she sighs, that soft smile still in place. "It still doesn't feel real."

"Is that why you've been so up-and-down, this last week? Were you worrying about the results?"

"Ugh, yes. I'm sorry. I know I've been hard to deal with. It was just a shock, and with the wedding, it was a lot to take to in."

"It's okay. I understand," she assures her, squeezing her fingers. "Are you ready to go back out there or do you need some more time?"

"I'm good." She rises onto her feet and wrinkles her nose as she flushes the toilet. "God, whoever named it 'morning sickness' is a fucking liar."

Betty laughs and wraps her arm around Veronica's waist as they leave the stall.

"It'll be worth it in the end, V." She tightens her grip and presses a kiss against her hair. "Take as much time as you need. I'll see you out there."

"Thanks. Love you, B."

"Love you back."

When she returns to the table, Archie is looking at her, eyes filled with worry.

"She's fine," she tells him, and then in a quieter voice adds, "Congrats, dad."

His grin is wide and bright, that patented Andrews-smile that reminds her of childhood and friendship and fun. He'll be a great father. 

"Thanks, Betty."

 

 

 

The train is busy, the Friday night crowd filling the carriage and leaving them to stand by the doors. Betty wraps her arms around Jughead's waist, holds onto him for balance as he grips onto the railing beside him.

"What was up with Veronica tonight? She disappeared at one point."

Betty bites her lip, not sure if she should tell him. "Can you keep a secret?"

He frowns at her question. "Uh, I'm not twelve years old so, yeah, I think so."

She snorts, "Smartass," and rises up on her toes to kiss him. "Well... Veronica's pregnant."

"Wow," he says, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Jesus, Archie as a dad. I bet he's more excited than he is at Christmas."

Betty laughs. "I think he's pretty happy," she agrees. "I'm so happy for them. They'll make great parents."

He hums in agreement and she settles her cheek against his chest as they wait for the train to reach their stop.

The night is fairly cool and Betty wraps her coat tighter around her body as they step out onto the sidewalk.

"Do you ever think about that?" Jughead asks beside her, his fingers sliding between hers, and she turns to him, confused.

"Think about what?"

He shrugs, acting nonchalant, but there's a faint blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Kids, marriage..."

She smiles and leans against his arm, wrapping her hand around his bicep.

"Sometimes," she admits, and then in a bold move, confesses, "Recently I've been thinking about it a lot more."

"Yeah?" The corners of his mouth tick up in a shy smile. "Me, too," he confesses in return and the look on his face is so cute that Betty pulls them to a stop on the empty street.

She slides her arms inside his coat and around his body, pulling him against her as she kisses him soft and slow. His hands reach up to cradle her face, lips warm and insistent against hers, and she sighs into his mouth, in love with the way he loves her.

She needs to tell him and she needs to do it soon.

They pull away eventually and walk the last block to her apartment, her arm still circled around his waist. When they enter her apartment, they both go through the usual motions - hanging up jackets, dropping keys in the bowl, kicking off shoes. He's at her place so often now that he has a routine when he enters her home and the domesticity of it makes her heart squeeze in her chest.

"Oh! I have something to show you," she tells him as he settles onto the couch and turns on the TV.

She picks up the envelope on her side table and takes a seat beside him, legs tucked up beneath her.

"I got the pictures from my disposable developed," she explains as she passes him the envelope. The film had finally ran out a month ago and she had wanted to get the pictures developed before she started using the camera he had gifted her.

He takes out the stack, flips through the photographs. Most of them are landscapes of scenery from their many adventures together last fall but there's some random stuff mixed in there - some picture from New Years Eve and Veronica's birthday party in February, some great shots from the R.E.M. show he had taken her to in January.

"These are great," he tells her and she knows he means it.

His praise makes her feel proud. She definitely doesn't have his talent but she was really pleased with some of the photographs and it's nice to have that validated by him.

"This one's my favorite," she declares as he flips over to a landscape of him at Veronica's party.

His mouth is open mid-sentence, finger raised in the air, eyes trained on the camera, his baggy, orange sweater almost swallowing him whole. He looks happy, playful - a side of himself that he only lets those close to him see - and she feels like she's captured _her_ Jughead.

"The tables have turned, huh," he muses, smiling down at the picture. "Should I be expecting a gallery show featuring a creepy amount of portraits of me anytime soon?"

"Juggie!" she admonishes and lightly slaps his shoulder. "Your show wasn't creepy. It was sweet," she argues and then takes a deep breath and she prepares to be totally honest. "If it wasn't for your show, we wouldn't have become friends again, and I... I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

He doesn't respond immediately and the silence is deafening. Betty tenses up. She'd been so sure that she wasn't alone, that the feelings she has were mutual.

"You're in love with me?" he finally asks, voice quiet and tone filled with surprise.

He turns to her, eyes glassy with emotion, and she bites her lip as she nods, not trusting her voice.

He smiles then and reaches up to cup her jaw, his thumb smoothing across her cheekbone. "I love you, Betty. So much."

Their lips meet in a sweet, unhurried kiss and Betty smiles against his lips.

"Lets go to bed, Juggie," she murmurs, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt.

He swallows thickly as he nods and places the photographs onto the coffee table. She leads him by the hand into her bedroom, articles of clothing lost along the way.

"I'm the luckiest guy in the world," he declares, eyes steady on hers, but she thinks they're both so lucky to have found each other again.

She rides him that night, hands wrapped around his neck as she sits in his lap, hips rolling against his. He's deeper like this and they feel so close she can barely stand it; their parted lips not quite touching but sharing the same breaths, his hands spanning the expanse of her back, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity she's never seen before.

It's all too much and she comes with his name on her lips, him following soon after.

As they lie together afterwards, her head on his chest and his fingers combing through her hair, they exchange words that they never have before but will so many times in the future.

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

 

 

 

"I feel kind of nervous," Jughead says against her ear as she slips her arm through his. "There's so many people out there."

"Imagine how Veronica and Archie feel. I don't think I've ever been to a wedding this big before."

Its intimating, to say the least. From the huge church to the inflated guest list to the expensive dress she was wearing, everything about the wedding is extravagant and the picture of high society. It's such a Lodge-affair that she wonders how Archie fits into all of this.

He's a small-town boy, he always has been. He grew up in a modest home, surrounds himself with his best friends from childhood, likes watching football on Sunday's and going fishing with his dad. She has no doubt that if Veronica asked him to move back to Riverdale tomorrow, he'd agree without a second thought. While she and Veronica - and now Jughead - have flourished in New York, he has always seemed a little overwhelmed, not quite comfortable in the big city.

But then she sees his face as she walks down the aisle. His emotions are plain on his face, giddy even before Veronica makes her entrance. Anyone can see how in love he is, how happy he is to be marrying her, and she thinks that must be it. Archie loves Veronica so much that he'll brave the socialite politics of the Upper East Side as long as he gets to be with her.

The thought makes her smile, hold Jughead's arm tighter. She likes to think she would do the same - would compromise and find a way to make it work with Jughead, no matter the circumstances. He means so much to her, has quickly become one of the most important people in her life, and she wants them to have a future.

They part ways as they reach the front of the church, taking their respective places, and she catches his eye as she stands beside the other bridesmaids. He winks at her, a small smile on his face. He looks so handsome in his suit, hair combed neater than usual upon Veronica's insistence, and she smiles back, that lovesick expression no doubt appearing on her face.

She moves her focus to the aisle, watches Veronica walk to her groom on her father's arm, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes flicker over to Archie, taking in the moment, and she sees his giddiness has morphed into pure elation, tears in his eyes as he gazes at the woman who's about to become his wife.

 

 

 

Betty sips on a glass of champagne as she watches Veronica and Archie dance. It's not the first time they've danced this evening, but she still can't pull her eyes away from the sight of her two best friends swaying together in the center of the ballroom.

The hard part was over. She had given her maid of honor speech, had forced down her nerves. Her valedictorian speech had been less intimidating and delivered to less people. She thinks she did a good job, though, even getting a few laughs as she recounted stories of their youth.

Jughead had been nervous, too, but seemed full of confidence as he addressed the wedding guests during his best man's speech. It was sweet, hearing about the close bond between him and Archie that she had been witness to but never really understood the depth of.

She drains her glass and heads out of the ballroom, in search of him. The hotel was decadent and expensive, enforcing a strict no-smoking rule, and she finds him outside the entrance, standing on the sidewalk with a cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," she smiles and leans up against the wall. "Are you almost done?"

"Yeah," he answers, taking one last drag before he drops the filter to the floor and stamps it out with his shoe.

She slides her fingers through his and pulls him behind her as she asks, "Come dance with me?"

His face scrunches up in distaste. "Betts, come on. You know I don't dance."

She smirks at him. "Indulge me, Juggie. It's our best friend's wedding." She pauses outside the ballroom to kiss him, the smokey taste of his mouth now familiar to her and not unpleasant. "It'll be a slow song. All you have to do is hold me."

His hands slide down her waist to her hips. "Well that doesn't sound so bad."

She smiles against his mouth as she kisses him again, before pulling him inside. They join the other couples on the floor, her arms linking around his neck as his hands come to rest against the small of her back.

A new song begins, a soft, dreamy tune that makes her want to pull him closer and never let him go. His forehead comes down to rest against hers, a smile tugging at his lips as they move slowly to the music.

"This is really nice," he admits, voice quiet but clear.

She grins up at him. "I told you." Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm really glad we're here, Juggie. I don't think I've ever been this happy."

"Me neither," he murmurs and she leans up to kiss him, uncaring of the people around them that could be watching.

The song plays on, a lovely soundtrack to an equally lovely moment, and she knows she'll think of them like this whenever she hears it.

_...I think it's strange you never knew..._

 

 

 

Jughead is waiting by his truck as she returns from the bodega with snacks and water. She tosses the bag into the front seat as she slips the magazine out from beneath her arm.

"Look what I got!"

She waves the copy of Rolling Stone in front of him and he smiles as he takes it from her. He flips through the pages until he finds the Radiohead article, a four-page spread covered in his black-and-white shots from various venues around the country.

"They all look so good," she comments as she runs her fingers across the glossy page.

"It's weird. I've had my photographs published before but never so many at once," he admits. "I can't believe how well it turned out."

She shrugs because she can definitely believe it. "You're good at what you do, Jug. Really good."

He turns to press a kiss against her temple. "Thanks, Betts."

She slides the magazine into her purse before climbing into the truck. They have four hours of driving ahead of them and she plans to read it at some point to pass the time away.

When Jughead had told her he had planned a weekend away for them, she was surprised. They still made spontaneous trips most weekends, venturing out of the city to take pictures and explore National Parks. They've seen so much of New York and the surrounding states in the last year.

But this trip was different - Jughead has planned ahead of time, rented out a small lakeside cabin for the weekend. Veronica had practically swooned when she told her and Betty had to admit that the whole thing _was_ pretty swoonworthy.

But the thing is, this wasn't new or different. He was always surprising her, always doing unexpected things, both big and small. And it made her fall harder, everytime.

 

 

 

Betty has seen a lot of beautiful places with Jughead but the surrounding area of the cabin takes her breath away. Nestled beside Letchworth State Park, the still lake stretches out beside their home for the weekend, lined by trees covered in spring-green leaves. It's tranquil, a perfect stillness settled over the whole area, and Betty can't believe that he's planned all of this for them.

They carry their overnight bags into the cabin and check the place out. It's small, cosy, made entirely of dark wood with large windows opening it up to the views outside.

She is overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness and the sheer romance of it all. No one has ever done anything like this for her before; whisked her away on a romantic weekend. Part of her considers pulling him into the bedroom and spending the entirety of their weekend there.

Before she can voice that thought, Jughead reveals his plans for the day - a hike through Letchworth and dinner at a restaurant in the nearest town. She follows easily - he's clearly thought a lot about this weekend and she knows she'll enjoy whatever he has planned.

The park is, as expected, stunning. They spend the whole day there, exploring the trails and visiting the waterfalls, cameras in hand. These kind of days are her favorite, submerged in the prettiness of nature with the man she loves by her side. She's thinks back to that first trip to Bear Mountain, two friends travelling outside of the city with an undercurrent of something more lingering throughout the day. Her stomach flutters as she then thinks about how things have changed in the six months since that day.

In the evening, as the sun begins to set, staining the sky in red and yellow, they sit out on the dock in front of the cabin.

"This is so beautiful," she tells him as she leans back against his chest, legs swinging over the water. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He drops a kiss against her shoulder as his arms tighten around her waist.

"Love you," he murmurs against her ear, chin resting on her shoulder.

Her hand reaches behind her to rest against his neck. "Love you, too."

When they wake the following morning, wrapped up in each other as sunlight filters in through the open drapes, she decides to make a gesture of her own.

"How would you feel about moving in together?" she asks as she rest her head against his chest, his heart beating beneath her ear.

His voice is scratchy with sleep, face buried in her hair, as he replies, "You don't think it's too soon?"

She shrugs. "Maybe, but I don't care. I just know I want to wake up with you, like this, everyday."

She feels, rather than sees, him smile. "That sounds pretty perfect to me."

 

 

 

A few days later, Betty meets Veronica to catch-up - she wants to hear all about their honeymoon in the Bahamas, and also wants to gush over her and Jughead's trip. She had already described the weekend to her sister over the phone a few nights earlier. She hadn't been able to contain her satisfied smile as Polly swooned and then complained that Jason had never taken her away on a romantic break, despite them being married for almost eight years.

"So, I have something for you."

Veronica sets her purse on the table as she searches through it, finally pulling out a small square sheet of glossy paper. She passes it to Betty whose eyes go wide as soon as she realizes what it is.

"Oh my god," she smiles, fingertip tracing across the blurry pictures in front of her. "What am I seeing here?"

Veronica grins and points out the baby's head and feet, too small to really look like anything at the moment.

"We got to hear the baby's heartbeat. Archie cried, it was so sweet."

"Oh, V." She grasps her hand in hers across the table. "This is incredible. I can't believe you guys are actually going to be parents."

"I know, right? Who the hell let that happen?"

Betty rolls her eyes. "You know you'll both be great at it."

A waitress arrives with their drinks and two slices of cake, and Betty takes a long sip of her coffee as she contemplates how best to tell Veronica about her and Jughead's decision.

After their conversation at the lake house, they had decided that Jughead would move into Betty's apartment before his next month's rent is due. They were moving pretty fast, she knows this - only four months of actual dating and they would be living together - but it feels so right that she isn't second-guessing it. But that doesn't mean she isn't worried about Veronica's reaction, who will no doubt question her and worry that they're rushing into things.

"I actually have something to share with you, too," she begins and Veronica wiggles her eyebrows.

"Juicy details about your little trip upstate, I hope."

Betty tries not to blush. "I'll give you the details later," she promises, and Veronica grins. She loves a good sex story and Betty wasn't going to hold out on her when she was having the best sex of her life.

"So, what's up? Is everything okay?"

"More than," she smiles. "In fact, things are so good that Jug and I have decided to move in together."

Veronica's dark brows arch in surprise.

"Already? But you've only been dating for a few months."

Betty sighs. This was exactly what she had expected.

"I know, V, but... I want this, we both do. I love Jughead and this feels right."

Veronica's mouth pulls down into a sad sort-of smile. "I know you love him, B, and you're great together. But moving in is a big step and you're still in the honeymoon phase."

Betty purses her lips and she tries to think of a way to describe what she's feeling.

"Do you remember when we were sixteen and you called me after prom to tell me you and Archie had sex for the first time?" Veronica nods, brow furrowing, not sure where Betty was going with this. "That night you told me you and Archie were always going to be together. And I told you to slow down, that you couldn't possibly know this when you're sixteen, but you insisted. You told me he was The One, and one day I'd be Maid of Honor at your wedding and I'd see that you were right all along.

"And you were right. That's exactly what happened three weeks ago and I finally get it now. I understand why you were so sure about Archie when we were just kids because that's exactly how I feel about Jughead."

Veronica smile is now wide and genuine, and she leans back into her chair as she declares, "Okay, well... If that's how you feel, then you have my complete support. I only want you to be happy, you know that."

"I am happy. Happier than I've ever been."

Veronica nods, still smiling, and takes a long sip of her tea.

"You know, you totally should have included that story in your speech," Veronica points out. "Although, maybe skipping the 'losing our virginity' part."

Betty laughs but gives a shrug. "I don't know, I think my speech was pretty good anyway."

"It was the best. I was crying like a baby and it wasn't because of my hormones."

Veronica cradles her chin in her hand, gaze flickering across her face, observing her. Betty feels self-concious for a second, wondering what she sees there.

"This is the real deal, huh? You and Jughead."

"It is." Betty bites the corner of her lip, trying to smother the lovesickness before it appears, but eventually gives up as she confesses, "It feels like a forever kind of thing."

 

 

 

It's quiet out here, in the warm, night air. The party rages on behind them, their classmates celebrating the end of summer and the beginning of adulthood. But here she sits with one of her best friends - pressed so close that she can feel the denim of his jeans against her bare leg - ignoring the people inside.

She rocks them slightly, the porch swing creaking faintly with the movement. The street is almost silent, no crickets chirping, or dogs barking, or cars passing by.

"Will you ever come back?" she asks quietly, looking over at him.

His beanie lies beside him, too hot to wear outside in the middle of August. The lock of hair curled in front of his eye bobs as he shrugs.

"Probably. My dad's here."

He sounds non-committal, like he doesn't really mean what he's saying. It makes sense to her - he's never been particularly fond of their hometown, has never found his spot here like everyone else seemed to. She can imagine him in Seattle, embracing the big city life and not giving Riverdale a second thought.

"Even if you don't, promise me you'll come visit us in New York."

He smiles, a soft uptick of one side of his mouth. "I promise, Betts."

"Good," she smiles. "It's gonna be so weird not having you around. It's been the four of us for so long."

"Yeah," he agrees quietly. "Really weird."

He's never been much of a talker, prefers listening and observing. She liked that about him, liked his quiet, easy nature. She was going to miss his presence and wondered how their little group would fare without him.

She slips her hand into his and leans her head onto his shoulder as she lets out a heavy sigh.

"I can't believe you're leaving me to deal with the lovebirds on my own. At least when you're around I'm not the lame third-wheel."

Jughead chuckles. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I really won't miss having to watch those two suck face."

Betty's nose wrinkles up at the thought of their handsy best friends who only ever seemed to become more insatiable for each other. The freedom of college was going to make them so much worse.

"I'm nervous," she admits, the first time she's voiced this aloud.

"About college?" She nods against his shoulder. "You don't need to be. I have no doubt you'll do amazing, like you always do."

She lifts her head, gives him a dubious look. "But college is so much harder than high school. What if I've peaked already and it's all downhill from here?"

His eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head slightly. "You're Betty Cooper - the smartest, kindest, most determined person I know. You haven't even begun to peak."

She's used to hearing words of encouragement from him. He was good at calming her down when she spiralled, at boosting her confidence when she was low. But this feels different. She's not sure if it's their close proximity, or the looming end of an era, but his words resonate with her.

 _He's_ the smartest, kindest person she knows. Jughead is fundamentally good; a good student, a good friend, a good person. Those kinds of people can be hard to find, she knows, but she's been around him her whole life, always on the receiving end of that goodness. The sadness she feels over his leaving worsens, as she thinks of his influence missing in her life.

"Thanks, Juggie," she murmurs as her eyes trace over his profile.

The slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the line of his jaw. He's beautiful, too, she decides, outside as well as in. She's not sure why these things are only becoming clear to her now. She's always known them, they've always been there as a constant, but the intimacy of the moment - just the two of them out here, alone on the swing - gives them clarity.

He turns to look at her, giving her another small smile, and before she can stop herself she leans in. She watches his eye widen slightly as he realizes what she's about to do, and then he leans in too, ready to meet her halfway.

"B?"

Her head snaps around at the sound of Veronica's voice. She's stood beside the open front door, brow furrowed as she looks at the two of them.

"What's up?" Betty asks, voice strained. She can feel Jughead's eyes on her.

"I've got the Jell-O shots ready. You said you'd do them with me!"

Betty stops herself from sighing in disappointment and replies, "I'll meet you in the kitchen in a sec."

Veronica leaves then with a pleased smile, closing the door behind her.

She turns back to Jughead, knowing the moment has passed but not wanting to end things on a weird note.

"I'm really gonna miss you, Juggie."

"I'll miss you, too, Betts."

A sad smile pulls at both their lips and she leans forward again, this time to brush a soft kiss against his cheek.

He doesn't follow her inside, remains seated on the porch swing alone, and she tries to shake off the moment as she makes her way to the kitchen.

She doesn't see Jughead again that night; she won't see him for another six years.

 

 

 

Jughead had said the dress code was causal, like his last show, but Betty wanted to make a good impression tonight. She wears her prettiest floral dress and a pair of heels she borrows from Veronica, the crown choker fastened around her neck.

The temperature is reasonably warm as they draw closer to summer, so she slips into a light jacket before leaving the apartment. It was currently a mess, boxes of Jughead's belongings stacked everywhere and flat packs of new furniture they had bought together propped up against walls. Jughead had been so busy with the show in the two weeks since he moved in that he hadn't even had the chance to unpack yet.

She takes the subway uptown to the gallery, a different venue from his first show, and smiles when she sees FP waiting outside for her.

"Hey," she says as she approaches and leans in to kiss his cheek. "It's so good to see you."

"You, too, Betty." He smiles at her but he looks nervous. "Do I look okay? Jug said it was casual but I don't wanna look like a bum in front of all these fancy New York critics."

She laughs. "Don't worry, you look great. Should we head inside?"

During the month since he had been released, FP had come to visit three times. He mostly spent his time alone with Jughead, who showed him around the city, but she'd joined them for dinner at least once during every trip.

Jughead really wanted her to get to know his dad properly. FP had so few people in his life and their reconciliation was important to them both, so Betty had never turned down an opportunity to see him. It was important to her, too, to get to know Jughead's family.

She tucks her hand around his arm as they walk inside, hoping her presence will alleviate some of his nerves. The gallery is busy - a buzz had been generated around his show after it was featured in the Village Voice and she knew a lot of his co-workers were coming as well.

She leans up on her tiptoes to get a better view over the crowd, searching for Jughead. He's at the far corner of the room, beside the biggest photograph in the gallery, engaged in conversation with two women. He's wearing a plaid shirt and dark jeans, looking far more relaxed than he had at his show last summer.

"I see him," she says as she begins to pull FP along, directing him towards the back of the room.

Jughead smiles as soon as he spots them and excuses himself.

"Hey! You're finally here." He hooks his arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her lips. "You look pretty."

Even the smallest compliment from him makes her stomach flutter. "Thanks, Juggie."

He turns to his father then, pulling him into a hug. "Hey, dad. So glad you made it."

Betty knows she's probably being paranoid, but she feels like there are eyes on her, watching her wherever she goes. It's not a crazy assumption - her face is printed and framed, hung up around the room - but it still makes her uneasy.

"It all looks incredible, Jug. I'm so proud of you," FP says, smiling in a way only a proud parent could.

"Thanks, dad." His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his go-to move when he's embarrassed or nervous, as his eyes flicker over to hers. "But I can't take all the credit. I was working with an amazing model."

A blush heats up her cheeks. "Juggie, come on..."

"He's right, Betty. You look beautiful in every one of them," FP agrees as he looks around the room and Betty's stomach clenches with the same mix of nerves and excitement she'd been feeling all day.

 _Elizabeth_. The title of his new show, named after it's subject.

Jughead had ran the idea by her not long after their trip to Letchworth. He had so many photographs of her - more shots from high school that he hadn't included in his last show and so many new ones from their many adventures together - that he said he couldn't think of anything else that he wanted to base his second show around.

She was both flattered and reluctant at first, her insecurities rising up and making her feel queasy at the thought of her likeness being presented over and over to a room full of strangers. But then she had remembered her request for him to take some of those photographs and the feeling she had whenever she looked at herself in one of his images.  _I've never felt as pretty as when I see myself through your eyes..._

It had taken a few days, but she eventually agreed.

And now she was in a gallery in Hell's Kitchen, surrounded by pictures of herself, feeling incredibly proud of her boyfriend.

Jughead is lead away by his agent, and while reluctant to leave them, follows her. Betty wanders over to the big print in the center of the back wall. It's a color portrait, the hues of orange and yellow and blue vivid and bold. Beneath the cloudless sky and nestled in the field of flowers, she sits in a white dress, flowers weaved through her hair, face tilted up to the sun.

"You really bring out the romantic in him," FP comments as he comes to stand beside her. "One look at these photographs and you can see that you're his whole world."

Betty looks over at Jughead at the other end of the room, hand on his neck again as he makes small talk with the newest person his agent has told him to schmooze and as if he can feel her eyes on him, he turns, catching her gaze.

His lips quirk up in the softest smile and she smiles back, wishing they were closer so that she could kiss that smile instead.

He's become her whole world, too, Betty thinks to herself. She doesn't say the words aloud - still too unfamiliar with FP to feel comfortable professing her feelings to him - but that doesn't make the thought any less true.

Jughead leaves his agent behind, moves through the crowd until he's standing by her side. His hand slips into hers as soon as he's close enough and she slides her fingers through his, linking them together.

"Do you like it?" He sounds nervous, unsure of what her reaction will be. "It's not too much, is it?"

She thinks back to his first show, their reunion after all those years apart. His love for her had been displayed across the walls, just like it is now, and all she had then were questions of _what if?_ and _how didn't I know?_

Now she has cuddles on the couch in front of the TV, slow, soft sex on weekend mornings, adventures in his truck as he showed her the beauty that surrounded them, and a kind of love that she'd never experienced before.

"I love it," she replies and closes the small distance between them to kiss him firm but sweet. Her hand cups his cheek, thumb smoothing across his skin and she knows she will always feel like this. "And I love you."

 


End file.
